Falling Apart in Hawaii

We had a plastic salad spinner for a good 15 years before it conked out on us. I bought it used at a rummage sale.

Just before we left for Hawaii two years ago our daughter, Tiffany told us she'd heard that this OXO salad spinner was supposed to be the best spinner in the market. There was some chef who really endorsed it. So we went out and bought it NEW even though it was quite pricey at nearly $50.00 because it was stainless steel. Art thought the stainless would be better for Hawaii where plastic seems to just crumple apart.

What the heck is it about this salt air that makes plastic deteriorate? Sheesh!


Anyway, within the first month when I pushed down on the pedal to make the spinner turn, something broke inside it and it completely stopped working. We took it back to Linens & Things and they exchanged it for us. We brought it to Hawaii with us.

Yesterday I was spinning the lettuce in it and it broke again! What the heck? What the heck?


And then, if that wasn't bad enough, we'll be taking a trip soon so I thought I'd better try out these black Natural Sport walking shoes I've had for the past 10 years or so just to make sure it would be comfortable for our long walking. I used to wear them for teaching when I was on my feet all the time.

I wore them to go walking up the hill with Art last night. Half way into our walk, I mentioned to Art that my shoe felt uneven. It was starting to make my foot ache. Then, about 3/4 done with our walk, my right foot felt really weird. Then the bottom sole just fell off! That was when I saw that the sole had become spongy! What the heck! What the heck! Is it the Hawaiian air or is it the product? Arrrghhhh!

Aggravation............

Almost All Clear

Looks like we've "dodged the bullet" according to news reports. We do take these tsunami warnings seriously in Hawaii because of the tragedies we have encountered before.

My college roommate's dad who used to live in Hilo once told me how he'll never forget that April Fool's day in 1946. His older brother had gone to school earlier that day. He was never seen again. It haunts him still.

This photo is from the Live Science web site of a man who did get swept out to sea.

My mother-in-law told me how some people disregarded a warning siren thinking it was an April Fool's joke. A school on the big island was swept out to sea.

There were a lot of people who drove up to Diamond Head and Tantalus to see the tsunami. I do believe they might have been disappointed that there wasn't anything to see. The TV anchors were working hard to keep things lively for several hours almost apologizing for a non-event. I think some people don't realize just how lucky we were.

I just hope there are no surprises in the next few hours.

Being Prepared...

Art was an Eagle Scout so we did get ourselves prepared... just in case...


We do live on higher ground. I just took this photo from out our bedroom window. That's Pearl Harbor and the ocean beyond it. My mother keeps reminding me how our son, Jon always said we should have bought a home closer to the beach where he could surf more easily.

This message is for Jon from his grandmother: "I told you so."


It's interesting how KITV has better calm information than KHON because we usually watch KHON. KITV has been more informative whereas KHON seems more panicky. KITV is saying it shouldn't be too bad but we should take precautions. So we've checked our stock of provisions. Hmmmm... not much. I guess that's why they're saying the stores are now EXTRA crowded and gas stations are running out of gas. We've turned down our refrigerator as suggested in case we lose power. We do lose power easily in the islands.

Ron at Hotel Waikiki has a great post today about the tsunami. He lives in Waikiki which would be impacted.


And I've saved a bit of water because they said the water pumps could be shut down if we lose power. Let's hope this has all been unnecessary. Still it's good to be prepared... just in case.

Tsunami Siren!!!

I was up late last night so I figured I'd sleep in this morning. It's 6:24 AM right now. About 15 minutes ago a blaring siren went off.

I'd heard that there was an 8.8 earthquake in Chile last night but people didn't seem too panicked. They said there could be a tsunami but the voice of the "expert" in Hawaii sounded pretty bland.

When the siren woke me, I turned on the TV and I'm hearing the broadcasters saying constantly not to panic and to remember the aloha spirit. Tourists are being told to go up to the 4th floor or higher. The first waves are supposed to reach the Big Island by 11:19 and Oahu by 11:52.


This is sounding awfully serious. I hope it ends up being nothing but...

Almost Back...

I've got my rough draft done of the digital photo albums (with explanations) of my mother and aunts' yellowed and tattered photos. It's about 60 pages. My brother and sister-in-law are checking for errors. I've also finished the rough draft of the stories my mother and aunts told me. That's an additional 20 pages. My "daughter-in-law in spirit" who was a reporter and assistant editor of a newspaper in New Mexico will now be editing those. I'm working on maps and finding additional data but overall, the bulk of the work is gathered. It's such a great feeling.

Through my mother and aunts' eyes I've seen such happiness, innocence, cruelty, depravity, insanity, fear, serenity, kindness, relief... every emotion you can name. For a while, my mother had nightmares and for a while I did, too. My mother tried to repress a lot of her memories, my aunt wanted it told. I believe they're all pretty satisfied and my mother feels good that I now understand what she's talking about.

It was always a goal for me to get the facts of her story and now I've done that. It's all so amazing to me. My brother and I could never quite get a complete understanding of what she was talking about when we were growing up and now it's all so clear. One of my cousins has said we'll have a Cousins Party to unveil what I've learned. I think they'll be surprised.

I am truly in awe of the information available on the web. I can hardly believe that I now know exactly where she was and the route her exodus took her and her family.

So I'm back... sort of. I do have to dust the house a bit. The bathroom... ahem ... needs to be cleaned.

And then I can start blogging a little again.

Spirit of Gratitude

My mother has always told me that my aunt, like her mother seemed to have a sixth sense. The following is what Auntie Grace told me yesterday.

I was around 13 years old at the time. We were still trapped in Kanko, unable to leave and trying to stay alive. We were fortunate to be able to stay in a very small private area of the temple there because of our connection to the Zen mission. The okusan (wife of the priest) where we were staying asked me to bring some water to their maid who was suffering from typhus in the hondo (main hall). I was afraid to go because the hondo was full of people dying from the disease. And yet how could I refuse?

I took the cup of water and walked to the far corner where the woman lay on a blanket amidst all the other rows of people ill and dying. I decided to go over quickly and place the cup near her head and run out as fast as I could before any germ had the presence of mind to jump onto me. However, when I set the cup down next to her she asked me to help her drink. I could barely understand her. This was the first time I saw a dying person whose slack jaw seemed almost dislocated and could not properly form words. What was I to do? I had to help her drink the water.

To my dismay, my good deed ended up causing my entire family to contract typhus as well. Then one evening, we heard a swishing sound outside in the roka (hallway). It was like the sound of someone walking in a silk kimono. The sound stopped just outside our room. We could tell someone was sitting down on the other side of the paper and wood shoji doors and had bowed down to us. My mother told your mom to go and open the door for her. However, when the door slid open nobody was there. Your mom looked both ways down the roka but there wasn't a trace.

“Ah,” my mother said, “It was the spirit of that maid you helped. She came to thank you.”

A little later, someone came to tell us that the maid had died and my mother told them she already knew.

I used to be afraid of ghosts but if you haven’t done anything to deserve their reproach, you have nothing to worry about. I’m not afraid of ghosts anymore.

Angels of Mercy

I visited one of my aunts today to show her my work and at first she wasn't happy to see the album of old photos in my draft booklet.

"That's not interesting enough," she said. "There is much more you must tell and it's not there."

I reassured her that I had lots of stories that I had recorded from her, my mother and my other aunt at the back of the album. When I finished reading to her she said, "That's correct but I have many more stories, one for each day. Your mother was the smart one. She should have written our story, but she won't!"

Each of my aunts are so different that it's truly fascinating. My mother is always cautious of people's feelings. This aunt is one of the most honest people I know. She's told me I still have a lot to write and improve. The wonderful thing about her stories is that she's not afraid to remember. She remembers colors, sounds, feelings, smells and details that sketch the events of their days into a vivid picture. She also wants me to write the truth about all her adventures whether she behaved heroically or...not. I will tell one of her stories later but for today I'll just copy another story from my mother.

In 1945, Japanese citizens had been rounded up in Joshin (now Kamcha'ek, North Korea) and sent by train to Kanko (now Hamhung, North Korea). They were detained there for nearly nine months before being allowed to return to Japan. My grandfather was in a Siberian prisoner of war camp. My grandmother tried valiantly to keep her five daughters and young son alive throughout their ordeal.

And now my mother's story:

My brother, Toshi was stricken with diphtheria in Kanko. The terrible deprivation had stunted his growth and weakened his immune system. Diphtheria nearly ended his life. My mother and I took him to a medical facility that was run by Japanese volunteers and were told that Toshi needed a blood transfusion.

In order to receive blood from a blood bank we had to donate some. My mother tried to give her blood but something was wrong and it was not accepted. I tried also, but my veins were too small and they couldn’t extract enough. This may have been due to dehydration. The situation was desperate until a medical aide volunteered to supply his own blood for Toshi. We were eternally grateful and relieved. Toshi was able to get the transfusion as needed. However, he remained sick for a long time.

Crossing at the 38th parallel border between north and south Korea after the exodus from Kanko we saw a line of American soldiers watching us. We couldn’t trust the Russian soldiers because we never knew what kind of people we’d be running against. However, seeing the American soldiers filled us with relief. We just knew we could trust them.

They noticed how ill Toshi looked. My mother told me to show them my passport. I didn’t understand why at the time but I realized later that she wanted them to see that I had an American passport since I was born on Molokai. After looking at my passport the soldiers decided to do what they could to help Toshi. They located some medicine that we could give him and after taking it, he improved. My mother said Toshi would surely have perished the next day if he’d not gotten that medicine at that time.

After crossing the border we had to walk another distance until we caught a train to Fuson (now Puson or Buson, South Korea) where we boarded a boat to Japan. Docking in Fukuoka, we took a train to Tokyo and then to Sendai.

We could hardly believe we had reached Sendai. On the last leg of our journey, from Sendai we caught a trolley to go to Shichigahama where my mother’s family resided. When we boarded the trolley we could not believe our eyes! We saw the medical aide, our angel of mercy who had given his own blood to save Toshi! We recognized him immediately and had a joyous reunion acknowledging our lucky survival together. After those eternity of miles to suddenly meet up again was more than we could quite comprehend. He was thrilled to see Toshi still alive with prospects for recovery.

Uncle Toshi is actually just 8 years older than me. He is my mother's youngest sibling. I'm happy to say he survived those turbulent years and graduated at the top of his class. Eventually he became a much respected high court judge in Tokyo and recently retired though he is still involved in many areas of law. My cousin, his daughter tells me he is looking forward to seeing what I've done.

Needless to say... I don't have a lot of time to polish up this work for him to review. Yikes! Next week, I'll be taking what I've done to another aunt to get her input. Unfortunately and fortunately, every time I talk to the three sisters, I have more to add and more to revise. How will I ever finish?

Sigh...

The Agony is in the Details

I continue to struggle with my mother's past. It seems every other day, she gives me another part of her story that has me having to unravel what I've written in a section and reknitting the time line. Then I have to correct my timeline, stories I've written and the photo album information.

Just yesterday Art actually found a map on line of north Korea in 1945. It had the old Japanese names and the current Korean names. It was magical to suddenly see the mythical places my mother talked about as real locations. However, then we saw that what(we thought)she told us about them walking from Kanko which is now Hamhung to Fuson (now Buson)it didn't make sense. It's just not possible.

That's when she told me, "Of course, we didn't walk the entire way. There was a train that took us part way and then just dropped us someplace and we didn't know how to get to Fuson. We had to find guides to show us. It took us 10 days to walk to the 38th parallel dividing line for north and south Korea while suffering the after effects of typhus and diphtheria."

Granted my aunt says it was more like 20 days.

And on and on it goes... I just know that once I've printed the photos and stories out to everybody, they'll tell me something else that will change a portion of what I thought they told me and what they thought I already understood.

There's another amazing story I'll write later after I've done my work for today. I'm going to see if we can get over to my aunt's house to show her what I've done so far and get some confirmation on those agonizing details.

More to Life Than the Past... Aloha Run

I wasn't thrilled about taking time away from my genealogy project. However, I promised Art a while ago to take part in the 8 mile Aloha Run.

We went to pick up our racing bib and tracking chip on Saturday.


We got some fun freebies like luggage tags and water bottle holders at the Runner's (and Walkers) Expo.


We got up at 4:00 this morning and drove out to the Aloha Stadium. The traffic was bumper to bumper for an hour.


We met Art's cousin, Renee in Honolulu. Since Art was planning to run, Renee volunteered to keep me company. The entrance fees for the race help to support Hawaii charities.


The sun was just coming up when first the elite runners took off and then the military troops showed their running style.


Then it was bumper to bumper again to the start line where our racing chips would be activated. They said this was the most runners they'd ever had with a huge influx of Japanese tourists coming to take part.


It was still dark so I barely recognized our Honolulu mayor, Mufi Hanneman waving as we went by. That's the Aloha Tower in the background. Hence the race name, Aloha Run! The race is from the Aloha Tower to the Aloha Stadium.


Walking under the viaduct for about 3 miles was a blessing because it kept the heat of the sun away from us.


Over the bypass was fun but at the three mile mark, my knees started to hurt. By the 5th it was killing me. By the 6th, I was ready to strangle Art.


By the 8 mile mark, I was ready to kiss the ground if I could bend my knees.


We entered the Aloha Stadium toward the finish line. Excuse me... I thought the 8 mile mark was the finish line. However they routed us AROUND the stadium adding another 100 miles to our walk.


After crossing the finish line, Renee and I went to pick up our Finisher t-shirts. Unfortunately, they ran out of the Mediums we ordered. There were only Large. How could they run out? I know we were in the last groups of finishers but there WERE people behind us.


Art's finishing time was 1 hour 19 minutes just as he predicted. I believe Renee and I took 3 hours and 1 minute. However, we had a great time catching up with each other's lives and participating in a great cause.

Art took me to Big City Diner for the biggest club sandwich you ever saw and I inhaled it AND a couple glasses of diet Coke.

Now... back to my project!

The Russians are Coming or The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

First of all thank you for your kind concern about my nephew. He's absolutely fine. Their car, however......

And now my post. (Forgive me for not editing it well. I feel rather overwhelmed.)

As a fourth grader my mother thought Japanese writers were able to capture the human spirit most eloquently. Then she was introduced to Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. She was astounded at the beautiful writing of Russian authors. From that point on she couldn't get enough of Russian literature. "What an amazing, refined people," she thought.

Then came the aftermath of the war with no peace in sight.

These are the words I've translated from her memories this morning.

"That front line of Russian soldiers included women and they were truly the dregs of humanity. Criminals! Prisoners! They showed no mercy and seemed to be ravenous savages. I'd thought Russians were all beautiful and suddenly here were these horrible soldiers who murdered, raped and beat us. Many people came to the temple for comfort and were gathered in the hondo (main hall). The soldiers would come and take pleasure in hurting people and raping the women. One woman had just given birth three days before. She was taken and raped. She died soon after. The Russian soldiers showed no shame in having sex out in public, sometimes in front of their own comrades with each other. It was madness! My friend was gang raped and I went to see her in the hospital. She had been the most beautiful girl with red cheeks and the sweetest disposition. I hated and feared the Russians then.

But no, they weren't all bad. Following the front line were kinder, more disciplined, civilized Russians. One of the girls fell in love with a Russian officer. He began trying to help everyone, distributing brown rice to as many people as he could. There was another young Russian boy named Sasha with blue eyes. He missed his mother and would come to the hondo to help the old women. I saw him carrying an old woman and calling her "Mama." These were the Russians I had read about.

No people are all bad. However, war brings insanity. I've lived through that insanity and know how lucky I am. I was so happy with my famly before the war. Life was perfect. Then came hell. Now I am older and I'm happiest of all."

When I first started this project, talking about her past gave her nightmares. When she worked at the newspaper, the editor wanted her to talk about her history so they could publish it. (The photo on the left is one they published when they needed somebody to advertise Ajinomoto.) She refused because it was too painful to remember. Now she says she is having vivid dreams of her parents.

I was worried that talking about this would hurt her too much as it did when she told my son about some of it. However, as the days go by and we've looked at photos of the happier days and talked through the painful ones, I think I'm seeing some of the weight of her past agony smooth out. Now there are so many memories I can't keep up with it.

As I said, I'm overwhelmed. Sometimes I think I'm going to start seeing nightmares.

That Sixth Sense

I'm sorry but I'm still neck deep in my genealogy project. I'm trying to organize what I'm learning and figuring out what to add to my photo-history album to share with all the relatives.

However, here's two things I thought I'd share just because it's so amazing to me.


I wanted to find a nice album to hold my 8.5" X 11" photo/history pages. (Blogger Steve, I'm afraid none of my relatives would be willing to dish out $200 for publishing so I'm trying to find the most economical way I can do this.) We finally found what I was looking for at Longs Drug Store down the street but they only had two of them and NO refills. I'd need 3 refills for each album because I'm up to 55 pages right now. I looked on the Internet and the shipping cost was staggering. I called countless other Longs Drug Stores on the island but nobody had them. We made a trip to Ala Moana to see if maybe they didn't know what I was talking about and actually had them. Nope! I was so frustrated I asked my daughter, Tiffany to get them for me in Chicago. I knew they had them.

Then tonight, Art and I went for a two mile walk (no, we're not afraid to drive our new Prius...sigh) down to our Longs to buy the two they had and have Tif buy the refills for me in Illinois. When we got to the store we found they had restocked! I was flabbergasted! A salesgirl came by and I told her how excited I was. She said, "Don't buy it now. It's going on sale on Sunday and I'll order more refills for you.

Wow!

Here's another story I learned.

My grandmother, my mother, three aunts and baby uncle were escaping north Korea for Japan. During that nine month journey my mother recounted getting used to death all around them. Their biggest terror was being captured and raped. One day, a Russian soldier on horseback saw her. She was about 16 at the time. When she saw him chasing after her she ran for the river. This was winter. She remembers seeing ice on the water. She looked behind and saw him gaining on her. The choice was the river or being captured. She chose the frozen river and managed to escape. To this day, she hates the cold.

Later, as they lay starving and tired beyond endurance, my grandmother felt all the energy she'd been trying to summon ebb away. She just didn't think she could go on. She realized finally that it was too much. She went to sleep thinking she would never wake again. That's when she saw a vision. She saw her hometown lighted with people going to a temple. They were praying. They were praying for her and her family, willing them to have courage to return to them. This was enough. It bolstered her determination to continue the journey.

When they got to Sendai, she told her parents about her dream and how it had kept her going. They were startled to hear her story and asked which day she'd had that dream. When she told them, they said with surprise that it was the very day that they had held a prayer service at the temple for her safe return.

My mother (that's a photo of her as a teenager, by the way) tells me her mother seemed to have a sixth sense and that one of my aunts as inherited it. Hmmmm...

So, Grandmother... thank you for your help from beyond with the photo albums. I'm working very hard to have your stories known to the family.

Ummm... and by the way, your grandson, Dennis has asked for some help also with that car accident your great grandson has gotten himself into...again.

Genealogical Obsession

I'm sorry I'm still so immersed in this project that I haven't been able to break away to do any blogging. My daughter laughed when she called and said, "You haven't changed, Mom. You get into these projects and that's all you think about day and night." It's true. I can't seem to help myself. Art has to remind me to eat or do anything other than my obsession.

I couldn't find a family tree template that would work for me so I had to design my own and then cut out little names and dates and glue them on the template with a toothpick and tweezers. This took me TWO days! I've also been e-mailing relatives in Japan for information and confirmation.

Just as I was getting pretty tired of it all, my cousin, Ellen e-mailed to tell me how much she was looking forward to seeing this and what it meant to her. Now, I'm energized again!

Here's a little something from their past.

It was 1945. Japan was in the last dying gasps of the war. They began drafting even older priests. My grandfather was ordered to report for duty. He was very anxious about leaving his family behind to go to what he felt would be his certain death. He called his family together and gave them his final words and his farewell.

He told them to always remember their family philosophy:
#1
Arigatai (Be thankful)
Mottainai (Never be wasteful)
Sumimasen (Humility)

#2 He admonished them to practice and perfect their penmanship because a person's personality is mirrored in their handwriting.

#3 Lastly, he begged them to always get along together and live in harmony, because in so doing they would be helping their mother when he could no longer be with them.

I've only spent a meager less than three weeks of my life with my grandfather in 1970 when I was a college student on my first trip out of the islands. (I must be honest in admitting that I wasn't jumping for joy when my mother told me that I must spend my ENTIRE free time of a six week trip/college credit course cloistered in a temple instead of adventuring with my friends.)

My grandfather had already been diagnosed with colon cancer but insisted on taking me to see the temple where he trained and other beautiful spots in Matsushima, Zao and Sendai. He seemed so awesome to me, wise, worldly, enlightened and yet he made sure to spend precious time with me and to encourage my artwork. I quickly got to know the rest of the family that I'd never really known existed and was in tears when it was time to leave. My birthday celebration, the day before my departure from Sendai was a pivotal point in my life... a birth of new realization that I had a family to love in Japan as well.

Now that I'm learning more about my grandparents, I'm happy to know what loving parents they were and what kind and good people I can call family.

Still Working on the Past...

After spending about eight years ministering in Molokai's Kalaupapa valley to victims of Hansen's Disease (leprosy), my grandfather and his family moved back to Japan. After a couple of years they moved to north Korea and built a Zen temple there. Korea was occupied by Japan at that time. While there, WWII erupted. My mother understands the anger that must have been felt by many Koreans at that time. However, I'm pleased to know that my grandfather and family must have treated the Korean people kindly because they did everything they could to help his family once the war ended and chaos ensued.

My grandfather was drafted into the war just a month before it ended. He was then captured by the Russians and became a Prisoner of War in a Siberian work camp. He was kept there for 2 years. In that time, my grandmother had to somehow get her family back to Sendai, Japan. It was an escape fraught with danger from marauding Russian soldiers intent on killing or rape and the constant threat of starvation. Many people died making that trip or committed suicide.

My grandmother had four daughters and a baby son to care for. A train took them only so far and then it was all on foot. The journey took nine months. In preparing for their journey, one of the things my grandmother told her daughters was that they could get what they needed in Japan but their memories were irreplaceable. So they packed away their more precious photos that they could carry and managed to bring them the entire way.

Then each daughter left Japan to make their way back to the islands of their birth where they would find a way to support the rest of the family who was now destitute. One of the few things they brought with them was a portion of those priceless photos. This photo is of my grandmother, mother, sisters and a family friend in Sendai, Japan.

Now that we've had several of those Cousins Parties, it occurred to me that it would certainly be a treasure if I could get all the photos together again after some 65 years, scan and share them with all the aunts, uncles and cousins. There is such rich history here and so many stories.

I thought I could do this relatively quickly... maybe a week or two. Yikes! It took on a life of its own. From just those photos in Japan and Korea, I began adding photos of cousins from Hawaii. Then there were the photos of us reconnecting with those faraway relatives.

It's been a life puzzle that I'm now making sense of. My brother, cousins and I have always heard the snippets of stories from the lives of our mothers but we couldn't quite put it together. It was often too painful for them to talk about. We knew they were in Molokai but when were they in Sendai? When were they in Yokohama? How did they lose their wealth? How long in Korea? How did our grandfather end up in Siberia? How did they end up eating locusts? How did he survive? Why did it take nine months to make that terrible journey back to Japan?

There are still quite a few questions but it's becoming clearer. Art suggested I make a timeline and that has really organized my understanding. Through the wonder of technology and email, my cousin in Japan (Thank goodness! She is able to understand English) has been able to fill in some missing pieces of information.

There's quite a bit to do yet but I'm seeing the light shimmering at that proverbial end of the tunnel.

Microfiction #4

Welcome to Microfiction Monday. Susan at Stony River is our wonderful host. The rules are simple. You are to use the picture that Susan posts and compose a story up to 140 characters including spaces and punctuation. Then go to Susan's blog and leave your name. She has a character counter to help us count.

Here's this week's photo:



"Doggone it! I told the taxi driver I wanted to see everything in the whole area, not the hole in the area. Sheesh!"