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From Generation to Generation 今世代から次世代へ

Women in my family – from left – me, my daughter, mom, my sister, my niece

My mother suddenly died in 2012. It was the year after the horrific earthquake and tsunami followed by the unbelievable nuclear meltdown in Fukushima. How time flies relentlessly… Her death was totally unexpected. She was only 82 and relatively well. One day, she had heart failure while taking her bath, and drowned.

She was a creative person, elegant and fashionable. A huge collection of her clothes was left behind. It was a weird feeling stepping into the familiar house with all her clothes, and her scent vividly present, but mom herself was gone…nowhere. Yet I feel like I can still hear her voice, her sigh, and laughter…My father passed away late last year, so my sister and I had to do something about their stuff.

One of the big problems was my mother’s hand dyed silk clothes. She dyed them herself, all from scratch and made into beautiful dresses, but all specifically fit to herself. Unfortunately, neither my sister nor myself could wear her dresses. Over many years I watched mom working hard day and night hand-dyeing the silk. She would make patterns, etch and cut, color onto silk, wash, dry…etc., such a complicated process… Who could throw them away, or donate them to strangers who might or might not appreciate the love and sweat that went into the silk. But then, what should I do with them? After thinking hard, I came up with an idea. What if I undo all the dresses and turn them into patch-work quilt and make bed spreads for my sister and myself?

However, there was a serious problem. I had no idea how to quilt; absolutely zero experience and zero knowledge about quilting. It was an incredible challenge for me and I didn’t even know where to start.

Right then, Jeanette came into my life, like an angel God had sent for me, and offered to teach me how to do this step by step. Thus…. the challenge of making my first ever quilt began. I opened my sewing machine which was tightly put away in its cover case. It had traveled with me through many moves, once across the Pacific Ocean, and had never been opened for many years. OMG… it was in disappointing shape. Some critical parts were missing, and it was in no way usable. So that was the end of my sewing machine that had traveled all the way from Japan 35 years ago. Jeanette mercifully lent me her machine.

My heart ached undoing my mother’s perfectly beautiful dresses. Yeah…mom had such sloping shoulders that were great in a kimono, but a couple of shoulder pads were necessary for dresses. She would hand-dye silk fabrics and dry them hanging wall to wall, like flags hanging in the house. I couldn’t help stopping my hand every time such memories occupied my head. What a slow process it was.

Even so, thanks to Jeanette, there are two beautiful bed spreads, after two years, all finished. My mother’s “bingata-zome ” dyes were reborn, reincarnated into something I could be proud of. I can tell my children, nieces and nephews, that these bed spreads were dyed by your grandmother, and quilted by Obaba (me). They can pass them on to their children for generations to come. Isn’t it wonderful?

I was so happy.

Thank you so much, Jeannette. I have no words to express my gratitude to you!

So…., I’m thinking….What should I quilt next….Is it going to be my new hobby?

My mom and my granddaughter Sumi
Quilt Bed spread

母が突然亡くなったのは福島の大震災の翌年、もう13年も前の話だ。年月が経つのは容赦なく早い。母の死はひどいショックだった。母は82歳で元気だったのに入浴中に心不全を起こしてあっけなく溺死してしまったのだ。

おしゃれが大好きでクリエイティブだった母が残した膨大な洋服のコレクション、何年も手付かずに実家に残してあったのだが、父が去年の暮に亡くなったこともあって、ようやく重い腰を上げて実家の整理を始めた。なんとも不思議な感覚だった。母が大好きだった洋服に囲まれて母の声が、息づかいが、笑い声が聞こえてきそうなのに、母はいない。

1番困ったのは母の手染めのシルクの洋服。母の体型に合わせてカスタムメイドされているので私や妹が着ても体型的に合わない。母が一生懸命手染めしている姿を何年も見てきているので処分するなどとんでもない。考えあぐねた挙げ句、洋服をほどいてパッチワークのベッドカバーにしたらどうか。挑戦してみようかと思ったけど、そんなこと全く経験のない私、どこから手をつけていいのやらわからない。

そこにまるで、『神の御使である天使』のように現れたジャネットが、手取り足取り教えてくれると言ってくれて、生まれて初めてのキルト作りに挑戦することになった。何度もの引っ越しを経て40年近くもしまいっぱなしだったミシンの蓋を開けてみると、まあまあなんと足りないものだらけ。結局日本から持ってきたミシンは使いものにならず、ジャネットのものを借りることになった。

母の洋服をほどくのは心が痛んだ。そうだよなあ…

母は撫で肩で着物が似合う体型だったなあ、とか何にでも肩パッドを入れてシャキッと形作ってたよなあ、とか染め上がった反物を旗のように家中に干しまくってたなあ、とかいろんな情景が走馬灯のように現れて、その度に思い出に浸って手が進まない。

それでも、それこそ何から何までおんぶに抱っこでジャネットのお世話になりながら2年がかりで我が家用のクイーンサイズのベッドカバーと妹の家用のソファカバーを作り上げた。これならば母の紅型染の作品も生きる。「これはあんたたちのお婆さんが手染めして、それをオババが縫ってキルトに仕立てたベッドカバーなんだよ」と何代にも渡って子供たち、甥や姪たち、孫たち、ヒー孫たちに語り継いで、残していくことが出来る。すばらしいじゃない？

すごく嬉しかった。

ありがとう、ジャネット。心から感謝している。なんとお礼を言ったらいいのかわからない。

次は何を作ろう、なんて考えたりして…

私の新しい趣味になりそうな予感。


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Stuff

—The wooden birds at my parents’ living room—

Two months after my father’s funeral, I went again to Tokyo and spent the whole month sorting stuff at my parents’ house.

It was overwhelming. Amazing volume of stuff, like my mother’s clothes, kimono, her artwork of silk-dye paintings, bone china paintings, and her water color Japanese paintings, lots of gifts given to my father during his 30 years of working in Los Angeles, Indonesia and San Francisco, many of them still beautiful, carved on valuable teak woods that are now extinct, and also…there are many artworks my parents purchased….Where can I start?

I did my best to sort stuff to a pile of keeps, no keeps, and throw aways in that one month I was there. However, I was no way near finishing when I had to return to Canada.

It was beyond my imagination how difficult this task could be….I was stunned to see how wasteful…. I was surprised to find out how different we all are. Even family members have different views and values, different reactions, different tastes…..

Just after we arrived in Los Angeles in 1969, we went on a family driving trip to Mexico. The moment we crossed the border from the US to Mexico, the scenery changed drastically, from green lawns to brown desert. Dry dusty sands were blowing everywhere and tiny houses looked built with layered carton boxes. People looked poor wearing clothes torn and disfigured. I was shocked to see how differently inside and outside of the border looked.

We saw a man with brown tanned face wearing a big straw hat, putting some wooden carved birds at the roadside. My mother said, “how interesting! Can we stop and see?”

So we stopped our yellow Chevy Impala, got out, and looked the birds that this cheerful and friendly man had carved. The birds were so simple, not even oil stained, but so interesting and cute.

From that day, for 55 years the birds sat in the corner of my parents’ living room and watched over us. Whenever I saw these birds, I thought of the man’s smiling face, his straw hat, the burning sun, the dry sand, the poor villages….. I couldn’t dare throw the birds away. I wanted to send them to Canada. However, I was told that since the birds were carved with untreated wood, they would not be permitted to enter Canada. I was crushed…so sad.

After I came back to Canada, I received a message from my daughter in Tokyo. “Look who are here!” The wooden birds are now sitting in my daughter’s home! ‘Oh they were adopted!’ You wouldn’t believe how happy I was!

I was born in 1955, only 10 years after the end of World War II. I grew up during the time Japan was so poor, just recovering from the dreadful war, and there was nothing. Things were scarce and nobody had anything luxurious. ‘Do not waste things,’ ‘you have to take care of things’, ‘cherish your possessions’, my parents and grandparents told me over and over. Perhaps that’s why my heart aches when I see things that look completely fine thrown into the garbage pile. I hear the utterances of others…. I don’t want this… I don’t want that… it’s not my taste…. it doesn’t suit my house….,I don’t have the space for this…..

I know it’s a popular trend to get rid of things, keeping the bare minimum, and living a simple life as an extreme minimalist.

However, I can’t do that. Of course, I don’t agree with the lifestyle with too much stuff, the house turning into a hoarder’s.

But for me, stuff is part of my history.

I would like to treasure things that bring back memories. I want to keep loving stuff that had dear meanings in my life. I would like to value my relationships with those special things.

After all, did you know that Zen Buddhism which is supposed to have had immense influence on Japanese culture, actually teaches that ‘things’ have souls as well?

—The wooden birds in my daughter’s home—

2024年の年末に父が他界した。お葬式の2ヶ月後、私は再度帰国してまるまる1ヶ月ほど実家の整理に明け暮れることになった。実家は亡き母の洋服や着物、母の作品である紅型染や陶器の絵付けや日本画の数々、亡き父の30年にわたる海外駐在中に贈られた置物の数々(多くは今は絶滅したとされる美しいチーク材だ)、それに加えて両親が購入した記念品や美術品で溢れ、どこから手をつけて良いやらわからない状態。とりあえず手をつけられるところから、処分したり片付けたり、できるだけのことをしてカナダに帰ってきた。

それにしても何と難しいことか。なんと無駄が多過ぎることか。物に対する考え方が人それぞれどれだけ異なることか。考えさせられることが多かった。

1969年、ロサンゼルスに父の転勤で落ち着いたばかりのころにメキシコまで初めて家族でドライブ旅行をしたことがあった。アメリカからメキシコの国境を超えた途端、景色が緑の芝生から褐色の乾いた砂漠へとガラッと変わった。砂ぼこりの舞う乾いた土地に、まるでダンボールを重ねただけのように見える小さな家々、ボロボロの服をまとった人々の姿にショックを受けたことをはっきり覚えている。

そんな道端で一人の麦わら帽子をかぶったおじさんが素朴な木彫りの鳥たちを並べていた。母が目ざとく見つけて「面白いね、ちょっと止まって見てみようよ」と言う。私たちは道端に黄色いシェブロンのインパラを停めて、日焼けした人懐っこい顔のおじさんの木彫りの鳥たちに見入った。本当に素朴で木にニスも何も塗ってない、ただ彫っただけの鳥たち、でも何とも愛嬌があって面白かった。

その日から55年以上も2羽の木彫りの鳥たちは実家のリビングルームの一角で私たちの生活を見守り続けてくれた。鳥たちを見ると必ずあの日のおじさんの笑顔が、乾いた強い陽射しが、貧しい村々が、私の胸によみがえってくる。どうしても捨てられなくてカナダに持って帰ろうと思ったら、加工されてない生木の作品だから検疫を通れないと聞いて、泣く泣くあきらめることになった。がっかり…悲しかった。

カナダに帰ってしばらくしたら東京に住む娘の知香から写真が送られてきた。「ここに居るのはだーれだ？」何とあのメキシコの生木の鳥たちが娘の家にちんと居座っているではないか。ああ、引き取ってくれたんだ、と無性に嬉しくなった。

私は1955年生まれ。戦後10年の物のない時代に生まれて、『物を粗末にしてはいけない、大事にしなければいけない』と言われ続けて育ってきた。そのせいか、『これもいらない、あれもいらない、家に合わない、家が狭い、置き場所がない、』とどんどん捨てられていく物たちを見ていると胸が痛む。

今流行りの、物を捨ててすっきり、最小限の物だけで暮らすのが良いとするミニマリストの極端な考え方にはついていけないものを感じる。もちろん物がありすぎてゴミ屋敷になるのは困るけど、想い出に直結した物を大切にすることも大事なんじゃないか。生きてきた軌跡を愛でることは単なるおセンチだとは私は思わない。

『物にも魂がある』というのは大切な禅の教えじゃなかったっけ？


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Funeral

My father in 2019

My father’s funeral was held at his church in Tokyo. It was a Christian service. Although the minister of the church had never met my father, he performed a heartfelt, sincere service that I truly appreciated.

Although I appreciated the funeral service, I didn’t feel peaceful about everything else after the service. The farewell staging was so pretentious that it left me cold. I have to note that it was after the church service and it had nothing to do with the minister or the church.

The farewell staging, or final goodbye, included some discomforting rituals.

The funeral director from the undertaking company, for example, told us to stroke my father’s face to express our love. The family members all stroked the icy cold face.

I also felt awkward sitting in the hearse which was driving off from the church while a group of people singing hymn were seeing it off. It reminded me of a scene from a century old black & white movie. The hearse carried my father and us to the crematorium.

And more dreadful ritual was that the family members picked up his burnt bones with chopsticks and placed them into the urn.

It didn’t sit well with me at all. I felt extremely uncomfortable. People say it’s just how funerals are conducted in Japan. It’s one of those cultural things. It sure is a big cultural difference. But it was not just that. Something was making me feel uneasy. What was it? I kept wondering.

It’s been almost 3 months passed since that funeral day. Thinking back now, I feel that the reason I felt so uneasy could be coming from my fundamental lack of understanding.

What is the objective of the funeral? I feel that in Japan the focus of the funeral is on “death”. It reminds us over and over that the person is now dead.

The focus of a funeral in Canada, where I have been living for the last 35 years, is more on “life”. The life the person lived is remembered.

I still remember how the cold face felt on my palms. It was something I didn’t want to remember. I wanted my father to be alive in my memory until the day I die. I wanted him to be a healthy lively person with a warm and beautiful soul, not a cold corpse or fragile bones.

Experiencing such a cold face would be too shocking for my little grandchildren. I worry that they would only remember that coldness rather than the warm smile and beautiful bass voice of their great grandpa who loved them.

My heart sank. It was the saddest day of my life.

父のお葬式はキリスト教の教会で行われたとはいえ、日本の典型的なお葬式であったことは歪めない。日本のお葬式とカナダのお葬式はなんだか根本的に違う気がする。お葬式の式自体は、父に会ったこともない牧師さんだったとはいえ、心のこもった誠実な式だったと思う。

でも式の後のお別れの演出が何ともわざとらしくて嫌だった。例えば葬儀社の人が、親族の人たちに、冷たくなった父の顔を撫でるように誘導したり、霊柩車を見送るときに讃美歌を歌いながら見送ったり…。そうしてそのまま火葬場に行ってお骨拾いをしたり…。

何か違う、なにかそぐわない気がして抵抗感があった。もちろん文化の違いだと言われればその通りだと納得せざるを得ないのかもしれない。でも何か違う。何だろう、どうしてこんなにモヤモヤするんだろう、とずっと考えていた。

3ヶ月たった今思うと、結局、根本的にお葬式の意義というか、目的というか、フォーカスのようなものが私の知っているカナダのお葬式とは違うような気がするのだ。つまり、日本のお葬式は『死』がフォーカスであるのに対してカナダのお葬式は『生』がフォーカスなのかもしれないと思った。日本のお葬式がその人が死んだことを、これでもかこれでもかと強調するのに対して、カナダのお葬式はその人の生きた人生を強調する。もう35年もカナダに住んでいる私はそういうカナダの感覚に慣れきっているのかもしれない。

私は正直言って冷たくなった父の顔を撫でてその冷たい感触がずっと手を通して私の中に記憶されるのに抵抗を感じる。父は私の記憶の中でずっと生きていてほしい。いつまでも元気で温かい父の感触を覚えていたい。死んで骨になった父ではなく、生きていた元気な父をいつまでも覚えていたい。孫や小さな曾孫が曾祖父さんのことを、触ったときの氷のように冷たい感触として覚えるのではあまりにもせつないではないか。温かい笑い顔を、美しい低音の声をいつまでも覚えていてもらいたい。

無性に切なくて胸が痛む1日だった。


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My Father

My father lived more than 13 years after my mother passed. He lived to be almost 97 years old. People say, he had a long happy life. Yes, for sure, he did have a long life. However, his last 13 years must have been terrible. I cannot believe he had ever felt anywhere near “happy”. Perhaps some natural defense mechanism had kicked in, possibly in order to blur his loneliness, his memory had started to deteriorate little by little. It eventually took away his ability to recognize us, his family faces. He could not remember us despite our strong kinship. He had dementia.

Dementia is a terrifying disease. I read an article about it describing what it would be like. Imagine sitting in an airplane all by yourself, not knowing why, definitely not because you want to go somewhere. The plane takes off and lands somewhere and you have to get off. You see people everywhere, surrounding you and talking. But you don’t know anybody. You don’t understand a word they are saying. You feel helpless, you don’t know what to do. Some people look aggressive, and you feel they may harm you, but there is no way of defending yourself. You are totally alone.

My father must have felt like this for the last several years, fearful and devastated. How terrifying it must have been.

I am sad I was helpless, powerless and worthless for him. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even be physically with him, just sit with him, help him feel at peace. Of course I was living far away, but still…..

My father was the person who was always quick to help me when I got in trouble, in tears, or feeling lost and overwhelmed. He was also quick to celebrate my joyous moments, flying to wherever I was.

It hurts to recognize that I was utterly useless when my father needed me the most, and there is no other chance left for me to make it up.

母が亡くなっておよそ13年たって父が亡くなった。もうすぐ97歳だった。長生きしたね、幸せな人生だったね、と人は言うかもしれない。でも母が亡くなってからの13年間は決して良い人生だったとはいえないと思う。一人ぼっちになった寂しさを忘れるためかのように少しずつ少しずつ記憶が薄れていって最期の数年間は娘たちのことも忘れてしまったように見えた。いわゆる認知症だったのだと思う。

認知症というのは恐ろしい病気だという。どこかで読んだことがある記事によると、まるで自分の意志とは無関係に飛行機に乗せられ、たった一人、どこだかわからない知らない国に連れて行かれるようなものだという。言葉もわからない、知っている人もいない、みたこともないところで降ろされ、放り出されるようなものだという。怖い顔をされても酷いことをされても自分を守る術もない。そんな状態で最期の数年を生きた父、どんなにか恐ろしい思いをしたことだろう。どんなに寂しかったことだろう。

遠い国に住んで近くにいなかったとはいえ、何の役にも立てなかった、いっしょに座っててあげることもできなかった。慰めの言葉さえかけてあげられなかった自分の非力さを思う。

私が困ったとき、悲しかったとき、圧倒されてどうしようもなかったとき、不安に打ちひしがれていたとき、いつもさっと救いの手を差し伸べてくれた父。その父が一番救いを必要としていたときに私は何もしてあげられなかった…何ともやるせない。


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Sloooow Life ゆ〜っくり

In July, I visited my son and his family in Honolulu for a week.

My journey began with taking a small plane from Powell River to Vancouver. I enjoyed the thrill of low altitude flying and dynamic Sunshine Coast sceneries. A few times, the young handsome captain made announcements in the plane. His talk was amazing…supreme tongue twister…totally impossible to keep up and understand what he was speaking. I thought, well… he must be saying something boring that he could even repeat in his sleep for every flight…how could it be important? 😜

So I arrived in Honolulu. My goodness, I noticed people are speaking so fast there too. I had to keep saying “eh?” asking for repetition. How come people speak so fast? Definitely faster than people in Powell River.

Then a memory came back to me. It was perhaps about 30 years ago. I was working in a college called Harbourside College. It was a small school and I was one of the few administrators responsible for key tasks like registration, marketing, and student services. I was always super busy. Every time I walked out of the office, people asked me questions from all corners of the school. Then I would go home to my three little children, all craving for my attention, and waiting to be fed. One day, I went to Japan for business and stayed at my parents’ home for few days. When we were having conversations, my mother looked at me puzzled and said. “Why do you talk so fast?” Suddenly, I was hit by a surprise. Am I speaking so fast? I never even noticed that. Is it because of my busy life? Have I forgotten to take time to enjoy conversations? Have I forgotten to relax?

After all, when I think of it, my mother, then, was around my age.

So, that means, Neil and I with our old dog Lu are aging and becoming slower. No wonder, living in slow countryside towns of Powell River and Texada Island is very comfortable for us. Does that mean we will keep getting older and slower without even noticing? Isn’t it scary?

Grandchildren in Hawaii

７月の1週間、息子とその家族が住むハワイのホノルルに行ってきた。

まず私の住むパウエルリバーからバンクーバーまで小さな飛行機に乗って低空飛行のスリルとダイナミックな西海岸の景色を楽しむ。若いハンサムな機長がいろいろアナウンスしてくれるんだけど何とも言えない強烈な早口で、私は全く雲に巻かれた感じ。何を言ってるのかまるでわからない。もう少しゆっくりしゃべってください、と言いたかったけど、どうせ決まりきったことを言ってるに違いないからまあいいか、と聞き流した。ハワイに着いたらこれまたみんながすごい早口でしゃべっている。私はついていけなくて「え？」と必ず聞き直す始末。何でみんなこんなに早口なんだろう。パウエルリバーとはまるで違うじゃないか。

ふと30年ほど前のことを思い出した。私がハーバーサイドカレッジという学校で働いていた頃…小さな学校だったのでいろいろ責任あるポジションを掛け持ちしていて最高に忙しかった。右を向いても左を向いてもあっちこっちから質問が飛んでくる。家に帰ったら帰ったで3人の子供達がお腹を空かせて待っている。そんな状態だった私が出張で日本に行って実家で泊まっていた時に、母が怪訝な顔で私を見て「あんた、何でそんな早口にしゃべるん？」と聞いてきて、私はハッとした。自分ではそんな早口で喋ってるとは気付いてなかったから心底びっくりした。そう、あんまり忙しくて気持ちに余裕がなかったからか、知らず知らずのうちにベラベラベラベラ早口に喋りまくっていたのかも、と気がついた。そんなことをふと思い出した。

つまり私が歳をとったということだよね。そう言えばあの頃の母の年齢って考えてみたら今の私の年齢じゃないか。

あれから知らず知らずのうちに30年経ってしまったように私も歳をとってしまうのだろうか。パウエルリバーとかタクセーダとかの田舎で、近年とみにゆ～っくりになったニールと私がこれまたお年寄りワンコのルーとの～んびり暮らして、いつの間にか30年たってしまうっていうこと？何だか怖いじゃない？


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Friends?

Last year I suffered from terrible sciatica…perhaps caused by my lack of exercising (?). In any case, I promised myself, “never again”! I was determined to work on becoming fitter. I began with muscle training. I attend fitness classes almost everyday. A class called “Strength and Core” is held on Monday mornings at the Powell River Rec Centre. There are many fitness classes offered there, but I find this class most effective for me.

Of course, there are many other like-minded people who also come to this class. Although demanding and exhausting, the class is very popular. In order to secure a favorite spot, people typically arrive 30 minutes before the class, go straight to the spot and spread their mat. It’s funny…some people like to be close to the instructor; some want to be closer to the wall, some want to have the best view of themselves in the mirror…etc. I like to be in the front row, close to the mirror, and close to the instructor.😆 I’m also one of those people who arrive early before the class, and spread my mat at the right spot. I love to be perfectly prepared.

And, one day….the class was just starting….music came on….bodies began to move….. just at that moment, a tall guy with fuzzy hair arrived to the class. He was perhaps in his 50s, perhaps with some kind of mental/cognitive challenge. He walked right into the class, and walked straight toward where I was. He said to me, “you are in my spot.” Apparently, he usually comes on Tuesdays, and the instructor is reserving this spot for him. I almost said “No, this is my spot!”, but I didn’t. Instead, I just nodded, moved my mat, and let him take my spot. I thought, since he might have some kind of disability, I better let him do whatever he needed. Later on, some of my classmates said to me, “You didn’t have to give him your spot”. Of course I didn’t have to, but I felt I did the right thing.

A few days later, I ran into this guy on the road. I said “Hi!” with my usual smile. His face was motionless. He looked rather nervous and murmured something to me. “What?” I couldn’t hear him. He said, “do you want to go to the Chinese restaurant in the mall nearby?” I was surprised, not expecting such an invitation. What should I say to him? My mouth stumbled….“Uuuum… I have to go home right away.” He nodded and kept on walking. I felt sorry and walked away, but kept on thinking, “did I do the right thing?”

Was I mean? The guy perhaps has no friend….he might have thought I could become his friend. It might have required so much courage for him to talk to me. And no doubt, he thought he was rejected…actually that was true…I did reject him. I’m sorry. When I put myself in his shoes I could really feel his pain.…

Lilacs

昨年、坐骨神経痛なるものにかかって大変苦しい思いをした私。2度と同じ苦しみを味わいたくないと筋肉をつけるトレーニングを始めた。パウエルリバーの市が経営するフィットネスのクラス、いろいろある中で私は月曜日の朝のStrength and Coreというクラスが特に気に入って毎週行くようにしている。

このクラスは他のクラスに比べてハードできついせいか、人気があって、それなりにフィットをめざす人たちですぐ定員いっぱいになる。だからみんな３０分くらい前にはクラスに入って自分のマットを広げる場所を確保する。前方の先生のそばがいい人、後方の壁のそばがいい人、鏡の前がいい人

それぞれいろいろ。私は一番前で、先生の近くで、鏡の見える場所が気に入っていて、皆と同じく３０分以上前に行ってマットを広げて始まりを待つ。準備オーケー。

音楽が鳴り始めて、身体が動き始めて、さあクラスがスタートというそのときに…アルという軽い知能障害(?)のある男性がクラスに入ってきた。まっすぐ私に向かってに歩いて来て、「そこ、僕の場所なんだけど…」といった。彼がいつも来る火曜日のクラスでは先生が彼のためにその場所をキープしているから、というのが理由らしい。私は、一瞬、『今日は火曜日じゃないよ』と思ったけど、異議を挟まず、頷いて場所をゆずった。知能障害があるかもしれない人だから黙って譲った方がいいと思ったのだ。あとで何人かの人に「譲らなくてもよかったのに〜」とか言われたけど、私は自分では仕方ないよね、と納得してた。

数日後、道でばったりアルと出会った。「ハーイ」と普通に挨拶を交わすと、無表情のアルはモコモコ口ごもって小さな声で何か言った。「え？」聞き返すと「近くのモールにある中華レストランに行かない？」と言う。あまりにも思いがけなくて何と答えたらいいのか分からなくて、しどろもどろに「うーん、すぐに家に帰らなきゃいけない用事があるから…」とことわった。でも、あとあと、これでよかったのかな、とずっと考えていた。

意地悪だったかもしれない。友達のいないアルが私なら友達になってくれるかもしれないと思って誘ってくれたんじゃないか。もしそうだったとしたら、ことわって、すごくかわいそうなことをしたんじゃないか…


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Potpourri of Thoughts

We came back to Texada Island finally, after 9 long months. I love this island. It’s so close to my vision of heaven. Hard to believe that we have been coming here for so long. We built our round cottage 20 years ago. In it, we created a Japanese tatami room with some tatami mats. It turned out beautifully. However, of course, our dog Kuma had to go onto the brand new tatami to have a terrible diarrhea. Although somewhat nicely faded over time, the stains are still visible after 20 years. But you know what? I even love those stains. It makes me smile. The cottage has been a restful healing place for us. It has been witnessing our life and family history for 20 years.

‘Gosh… 20 years! No wonder we are getting old…”, we sigh. Time is indeed flying away like a butterfly.

We moved to Powell River 3 years ago and have been enjoying our retirement. We feel blessed to be included in this friendly community…for example….

When I went to my fitness class in the morning, one of my classmates brought me a bunch of green asparagus from her garden. She said, “You told me you love asparagus, right?” “Yes, I love them! Wow…beautiful asparagus!” They were very delicious.

The same day, when I finished exercising, I went to a coffee shop. I ordered a cup of coffee and a muffin. The clerk said, “Yours have been already paid.” “Oh no, I haven’t paid yet….” I looked at her puzzled. She smiled and said, “The person in front of you in the line had a gift card, and said to use the money left on the card to pay for the next person’s order.” Wow, a stranger has treated me my breakfast for no reason, and made my day.

How cool is that! What a happy day.

From the ferry boat to Texada Island
Our Round Cottage

9ヶ月ぶりのタクセーダ島、ここはやっぱり私にとっては天国。考えてみると初めてここを訪れてからもう20年になる。この地にま〜るいコテージを建てて、カナダでは手に入りにくい畳を敷いて和室を作ったのはいいけど、さっそく当時の愛犬、クマがわざわざその真新しい畳の上で、ピーピー下痢をして汚してしまった。だいぶ薄くはなったけど畳にはシミがしっかり残っている。そんなシミさえなんとも愛おしい。子供達に孫たち、そしてクマを始め愛するペットたちの様子を見守ってきたこのコテージ、優しいエネルギーに満ちて、なんとも言えない温かさを感じる。このコテージは私たち夫婦の生活、そして家族の歴史をずっと20年間見守ってくれたんだなあ。

「もうここに来始めてから20年。私たちも歳をとったわけだよね」ニールと話す。年月は矢の如く飛んでいく。

パウエルリバーでリタイア後の人生を過ごすと決めて引っ越してきてからもはや3年、すっかりコミュニティに馴染んで快適な日々を過ごしている。

先日は嬉しいことがあった。朝、いつものフィットネスのクラスに行くとクラスメイトの友人が思いがけず、庭で育てたアスパラガスを持ってきてくれた。「あなた、アスパラガス好きだって言ってたでしょ」「うわーおいしそう!! ありがとう」感激した。夕飯にいただいたアスパラガス、みずみずしくておいしかった。

その同じ日、クラスが終わって、ひとりで近くのコーヒーショップに行き、コーヒーとマフィンを頼むと、「お代はもういただいてますからいいです」と言われた。私がキョトンとしていると、店員さんが笑いながら説明してくれた。私の前のお客さんがギフトカードを持っていて「このカードに残っている金額で次の人のお代を払ってあげてね」と言い残していったそうな… 見ず知らずの人が私の朝食をプレゼントしてくれたんだよ。すごくない？

いたく感激した。うれしい１日だった。


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Our Trip to New Denver, BC ブリティッシュコロンビア州ニューデンバーへの旅

Recently, we watched a program on the Knowledge Network about Japanese gardens in Canada. UBC Nitobe Garden in Vancouver, Japan Canada Yukoo Garden in Lethbridge, Alberta, and Kohan Reflection Garden in New Denver, B.C. were introduced. There were some explanations of who, how, and why these gardens were created. Histories, ideas, and some background behind these gardens were briefly mentioned.

I have to confess that although I have 32 long years of living in Canada, somehow, I never had the chance to learn or even be interested in the history of Japanese Canadians. Watching this program was an eye opening experience for me.

We had a long and beautiful summer this year. Neil and I were thinking of going somewhere on a driving trip with our two dogs before rain arrived. It would be perfect to go to New Denver to visit the garden and learn the history.

When I told our dear friend, Allen, about this idea, he said I must read Obasan by Joy Kogawa before the trip. It was indeed excellent advice!

So a sunny day in mid September, we departed our house in Powell River and started our week-long driving trip to the interior of BC.

New Denver was far. We stayed at a motel in a quiet little village called Fauquier after crossing Arrow Lake by a cable ferry.

We arrived in New Denver the next day. It is a picturesque old little town by Lake Slocan. Nikkei Internment Memorial Centre and Kohan Reflection Garden were on the other side of a river, separated from the town by a bridge.

We saw a big bear in the park near the Kohan Garden, devouring something from a garbage box.

In this quiet old town about 1,400 people live. There are some more small villages and ghost towns in this area surrounded by mountains and lakes. It was hard to believe that in the 1940’s 22,000 Japanese Canadians were squeezed in this small area.

They were all uprooted from their houses and businesses on the west coast of BC. They were first stuffed in the smelly animal sheds in Hasting Park in Vancouver for months, then brought to Slocan by train, then to New Denver area by boats. Amazingly, 75% of those people were Canadian born or naturalized Canadian citizens!! Men between ages 20s to 60s were sent to physical labor camps, forced to construct railroads or highways. Women, children, and older people were sent to these internment camps.

…..What?…. I have heard that many Chinese laborers were brought from China to work on the railroad constructions. I didn’t know Japanese Canadian men were forced to work in such construction sites as well……Many of them were fishermen or farmers. They were removed from their works, properties, and families, and shipped to work in those constructions….and they were all legal Canadians… how terrible….I didn’t know….

Their properties which they had worked so hard to earn …including tools, boats, cars, radios….were taken away, looted, and auctioned off. The government approved to sell their belongings, THEN charged them the handling fees for selling!

They could not return to their houses… ever. They were not even allowed to exist in the west coast of BC for several years even after the war.

People were allowed to take their necessities as much as they could carry by hand. They had to watch from the bus windows as their houses were looted as their buses drove away.

Apparently, discriminations towards Japanese Canadians started way before the Pearl Harbour. There were various systematic legal discriminations against them, e.g., taking away and banning their rights to obtain fishing license, not allowing them to engage in certain occupations like lawyer, medical doctor, teacher….etc. As they became successful in their fields, regulations were put on to prevent their success. The systematic discriminations were already escalating and broadening by the time Pearl Harbour happened. Pearl Harbour only provided a good reason for their removal.

They were Canadian citizens whose ancestors came from a country which happened to become an enemy…just like German Canadians or Italian Canadians. Imagine the lives of immigrants; they must work extra hard from zero in the new land, in an unknown environment, with an unfamiliar language, to build up their means of survival. And then everything they had built was taken away…just to make them suffer….just because they were Japanese descendants………..

Older people, children, and women were sent to interior BC like New Denver. They had to live through the first winter in thin canvas tents. Materials and tools to build the camp did not arrive for many months.

How did young mothers with babies live without privacy? How did sick people survive in such poor conditions?

There were voices amongst white Canadians, “Japs deserve to suffer, they should suffer to the maximum”

This is certainly not the Canada I know. How sad…

After the war was ended, Japanese Canadians were uprooted again. They were forced to make a choice of moving further east and work in places like sugar beet farms, or board ships taking them back to Japan.

For most of the Canadian born people, Japan was a foreign country. They didn’t speak the language or have anybody who could help them. Moreover, Japan was in total chaos. Many cities were bombed out heavily, people had lost their places to live, no food to eat….they themselves were struggling to survive.

Despite all that, many Japanese Canadians chose to board the ships out of deep despair. They felt there was no future, no hope for them in Canada.

After people left New Denver, the internment camp was bulldozed over to a bare field, as if nothing had happened… In 1989, the Japanese garden called Kohan (it means Lakeside) Reflection Garden was created. A young garden designer from Japan transformed this land of tears and sorrows to a beautiful garden. It is now a public space, open to everybody.

Beautiful town, beautiful park, with a sad history….

This was such a moving trip. I am still reading more books about the Japanese Canadian history. I would love to go back there again.

最近、テレビでカナダにある日本庭園を紹介する番組を観た。バンクーバーのニトベガーデンやアルバータ州レスブリッジの日加友好ガーデン、ブリティッシュコロンビア州の内陸部ニューデンバーにある湖畔ガーデンが紹介された。なぜ誰が何を想ってつくった庭園なのか…日系カナダ人の歴史についても簡単な説明があった。

私は今まで日系人の歴史については知識もなく、大して興味もなく、カナダに住んで32年にもなるというのにあまりにも無知だった。この番組に啓発されてニューデンバーに行ってみたいと思ったのだ。

折りしも夏の終わり、ちょうどドライブ旅行をしたいね、とニールと話していたところだった。

ニューデンバーに行って日系カナダ人の歴史に触れたいと友人のアランに話すと、「それは良い。行く前に絶対ジョイ・コガワの『おばさん』を読みなさい」とアドバイスしてくれた。

素晴らしい晴天の続く9月の半ば、私たち2人と2匹はパウエルリバーの我が家を出発、約1週間のドライブ旅行に繰り出した。

ニューデンバーは遠かった。アロウレークという湖にあるケーブルフェリーを降りてすぐの静かな村でまずは一泊、あくる日やっとニューデンバーにたどり着いた。スローカン湖のほとり、歴史を感じさせる古い建物が並んで絵のように美しい。日系カナダ人のメモリアル記念館は川を渡って、町の中心部とは離れたところにあった。

大きな熊が近くの公園で残飯をあさっている。

こんな平和で一見、昔から何も変わらないように見える町、現在の人口は約1400人だという。40年代にこの町と周辺の山奥の村やゴーストタウンとに合わせて22000人もの日系カナダ人が収容されたという。しかもそのうちの75%がカナダで生まれたれっきとしたカナダ人だったという。20歳から60歳くらいまでの男性は鉄道工事や道路工事などの労働に強制的に送られ、女性、子供、老人はこれら山奥の収容所に送られたそうだ。

え？　中国人の労働者が鉄道工事のために中国から連れてこられたという話は聞いていたけど、日系人も強制労働させられたんだ……全然知らなかった…

日系人たちは住み慣れた土地家屋を没収され、車やボート、ラジオなどの電化製品も取り上げられた挙げ句、政府の手でそれらを二束三文で売り飛ばされ、そのうえ売却手数料まで差し引かれて、文字通り無一文になってしまったそうだ。

自分の手で持てるだけの荷物のみを持ってくることを許されたという。

しかも戦争が終わったあとも数年にわたってブリティッシュコロンビア州に戻ることは許されず強制収用は続き、家や家業を取り戻すことは結局生涯できなかったという。

しかも、日系人に対する差別は、戦争時に始まったことではなく、その前から様々な形で表れていたそうだ。漁業、農業従事者に対してはもちろん、弁護士、医者、教師などの職業に就くことを禁じられるなど、多岐にわたったらしい。日系人がカナダで成功することを妨げる法律が次々と認定されて差別がエスカレートされていったという。そこに真珠湾攻撃が起こり、日系人を追い出す格好たる口実ができたというわけだ。

何の罪もない人たち、ただただ懸命に働いて豊かな生活を築こうとしていた人たちをここまで苦しめていたとは…ショックで言葉が出ない。

老人、子供たち、女性たちが送られたニューデンバーでは住居のキャンプが間に合わず、最初の冬は厳しい寒さの深い雪の中、薄っぺらい布テントで寝泊まりさせられたという。

「ジャップは最大限苦しめばいい」と叫ぶ声も多々あったらしい。

ショックで胸がドキドキしてくる。これは私の知っているカナダではない…

プライバシーもないに等しいところで、赤ちゃんを抱えた母親たちはどうやって過ごしていたのか。お年寄りや病人たちは厳しい寒さの中どうやって耐え抜いたのか。

戦争が終わってからも日系人たちはさらに東方の収容所に移動して砂糖大根などの農場で働くか、敗戦後の日本への船に乗船するかの選択を迫られたそうだ。多くの人々にとっては日本は見知らぬ所で知った人もいない、言葉もわからない外国、しかも日本は敗戦後の混乱で食べるものもなく焼け野原で住むところもないような状態、それでも多くの人たちが、収容所生活に絶望して日本に向かったという。

そんな日系人たちの血と涙で塗り固められた収容所の跡地にこの『湖畔ガーデン』は造られた。収容キャンプは跡形もなく撤去され、美しい日本庭園に変身して、一見何事もなかったかのように見えるニューデンバー。そこに眠る悲しい歴史。

なんだか深く感じ入るところがあって、旅の後も引き続き日系人の歴史に関する読書を続けている…

もう一度行きたいな。

今度行くときはまた違った印象を持つかもしれない。


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We moved! 引っ越しました。

Beautiful Morning Glory flower! 引越しのストレスにも負けず朝顔が咲いたよ❗️
Our new house in Powell River パウエルリバーの新居
Thanks for blooming despite stressful summer….my mother’s cactus from Japan 母のサボテンが今年も綺麗に咲いてくれました。
Ferry boat to Texada Island タクセーダ島へのフェリー
Sunset from our deck 我が家のデッキからの夕焼け
Sea walk in Powell River パウエルリバーの海岸

Never again!

What a stressful summer! Our house is not fully organized yet, but at least I have recovered enough to feel like sitting down to write this blog.

Our July began with never-ending packing. Unbelievable how much junk we had! Then, 2 big fully-loaded 7ton trucks arrived at our new house in Powell River on the 7th. It was the beginning of our endless wrestling with the boxes. We needed to return to our house in Lions Bay where we lived the past 10 years, in order to move in-house. We switched our living spaces with Rutsu. Rutsu’s family moved into the space we used to live (upper 2 floors) and our stuff which didn’t go to Powell River was moved to the ground floor where Rutsu used to live. After the move, we returned swiftly to Powell River, continued our wrestling with the boxes, in the ocean of dripping sweat.

It was a record high temperature this summer. During the heat dome it exceeded 35C-40C in Vancouver which is usually around 25C. A town called Lytton which is 3-4 hours drive in-land from Vancouver experienced incredible 49.5C, and was destroyed by the fire the next day…. Unbelievable worst nightmare….!!

Though nothing like that, I had an exhausting summer, too. Now I can see some light at the end of the tunnel, I’m looking forward to writing my blogs, not long ones but more frequently, hopefully.

Powell River is about 4 hour drive, not including the waiting time for the ferry boats, a coastal town north of Vancouver, with population of about 14,000, a laidback peaceful countryside. Good thing is….I can even walk to the ferry terminal for Texada Island where we have our cottage.

So……to be continued.

The next blog would be…..perhaps, “why we decided to move.”

もう2度と引っ越しはごめん！

ストレスフルな、怒濤のような夏でした。まだ完全に片付いてないけど、ようやくこうして座ってブログを書こうという気持ちになれるまでになりました。

6月頃からぼちぼち箱詰めを始めていたんだけど、7月に入ると同時に引っ越し屋さんが本格的な荷造りに来てくれて、大きな7トントラックが2台、パウエルリバーの私たちの新居に到着したのが7日。それから毎日ダンボール箱との格闘。19日から5日間、10年住んだライオンズベイの家に戻って、今度は私たちの住まい(2階と3階)とルツの家族の住まい(地階)との交換、家内引っ越し及び片付けをすませてすぐにパウエルリバーに舞い戻り、汗だくになりながら箱との戦いを延々と続けました。

記録的な暑さの今年の夏。バンクーバーでも40℃を超える熱、リットンという少し内陸に入った町では49.５度という信じられない暑さに見舞われた挙句、次の日には山火事で街が全滅するという悪夢のような夏。

私にとっても何ともしんどい夏でした。でもやっと一段落したのでこれからが楽しみ。これからちょくちょくあまり長文でないブログを書いていこうと思います。

パウエルリバーはバンクーバーから車で正味4時間(フェリーの待ち時間を除いて)くらい北に上がった海岸の町で人口14000人位かな。のんびりした平和な田舎町です。私たちのコテージのあるタクセーダ島行きのフェリーターミナルまでは歩いていけるんだよ。

さて続きはまた今度。次回は何故引越しをしようと思ったのかを書こうかなと思います。


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Happy New Year! あけましておめでとうございます!

Happy New Year!

Every year I write and snail mail my Christmas letter in Japanese and English to our long time friends and families around the world. I started doing it when we moved from Japan to Canada in 1990. So, it is a 30 year tradition now. At first, I was writing to my aunts and uncles how we were doing in Canada, and showing how much my babies have grown. Then, as my children grew up….to grown-ups….to have started their own family…..to making me a grandma…..now with 5 little ones in total and one more on the way….my personal letter became more and more like a newsletter of the family centered around me. Nowadays, what happens every year is that my children send their annual family snap shots to me, and I just organize and lay them out in the letter. Naturally, most of the photos end up to be looking joyous and fun.

However, just because the photos are looking joyous, it doesn’t mean my life is filled with fun. Happy photos seem to give happy impressions. I received feedback from some friends saying something like “your life is always full of happy, interesting, extraordinary, and fantastic things. You must never get bored…”or “you are always surrounded by a large family, your life is full of love and happiness…” or “I am so envious….” or “my life and your life are completely opposite like night and day”…… hummmmm……..I moan. I say to myself “that’s not right….” and wonder if including photos is even a good thing to do…..

Of course, I am grateful of my life. I do have a happy life. I have a warm-hearted loving husband and we get along. We are not rich, but not poor. If we don’t indulge ourselves with luxuries we can have a comfortable life. The small children 30 years ago have grown to have their own careers and families, and thankfully they are all reasonably happy. But, ….my moaning continues…. Just like everybody’s life, my life is not perfect. There are days I feel so depressed and find myself hiding in a room not wanting to interact with anybody. I don’t want my letters to be like some postings on Facebook showing off one’s success or meals and loudly proclaiming how wonderful their lives are. It’s a serious problem for me if my letter makes somebody feel that way…..

The first day of the brand new year started with my disappointing “senior moment.” When I was making the traditional rice cakes, I forgot to add water to rice, and of course, the rice burned….. OMG….would this stupidity symbolize my new year? I pray it would not.

My Zen meditation teacher at his Dharma Talk this morning started his talk with the words “Your life is perfect.”

What? When I was just thinking my life was not perfect…..?

“All you have is now.” He said.

Of course, our lives might be a consequence of our choices, or a consequence of some external pressures. However, as he says, we can only deal with “now”. This moment is the only moment we can make difference.

Then, he said. “Let’s lift up this moment to the highest, to be the best moment you can ever have.”

Yes! I thought. That’s what I needed to hear! I should not worry about what happens in the future…..how series of moment to moment could end up bringing somebody some unpleasantness…it’s probably something I need not worry about….

My thoughts of the New Year of 2021.

毎年クリスマスの時期に日本語と英語のクリスマスレターを書いて世界中に散らばる友人や親戚に郵送する。カナダに引っ越してきた年に始めたからもうかれこれ30年続いているかな。最初はカナダに引っ越した私たちの様子を日本に居る大好きな親戚のおじさんおばさん達に知らせたくて書いていたんだけど、だんだん子供たちが大きくなって、大人になって、自分たちの家族を持つようになると、手紙というよりも、私を軸にした家族のニュースレターのような感じになってきた。友人達も増えて郵送も切手代がかかるし時間もかかるからもうそろそろやめようかと思いながら、高年齢のおじさんやおばさんががっかりするかな〜と思うとやめられない。最近では子供たちがその年に写した写真を送ってくれて、私がそれを編集してレターに載せている。自然、楽しそうな明るい表情の写真が多くなる。

別に私の生活が明るいばかりで楽しいばかりなわけではないんだけど、どうしてもにぎやかな写真が多いとそういう印象を与えてしまうらしい。例えば「いつも楽しそうでおもしろいことや奇想天外なことがいっぱいで、退屈したりしないでしょう」とか、「大勢の家族に囲まれ愛に満ちた幸せライフ」とか、「うらやましい」とか、「同じ人生でも自分とは月とスッポン」とか、そんな感想がくると、ウ〜ンとうなってしまう。ちょっと違うよなあ。いっそのこと写真を載せるのをやめた方がいいのかな……

確かに私は恵まれていて幸せだとは思う。優しくて気の合う夫がいてくれる。特にお金持ちでもないし特に貧しいわけでもない。贅沢さえしなければそれなりに普通にやっていける。30年前には小さな子供達だった私の娘たちや息子もそれぞれまともな大人になって、孫たちも生まれて、幸せに暮らしている。でも私なりに気持ちがふさぐこともあれば、何もかも投げ出したくなることもあるんだよ。時々誰とも話したくなくて部屋に引きこもることだってある。私の手紙が、フェイスブックでよくあるポストのように、幸せや成功を見せびらかしているような印象を与えているとすれば問題だなあ。

新しい年の始まり。元旦早々シニアモーメントでがっかり。お餅を作っていて餅米に水を加えるのを忘れてお米を焦がしてしまった……こんなバカな事が新年のシンボルにならなければいいんだけど……

今朝の座禅の先生のお話はこんな言葉で始まった。「あなたの人生は完璧です。」

「ええ？自分のシニアモーメントにがっかりしたばかりなのに？」

「この瞬間のあなたの人生は完璧なんです。そしてあなたには今この瞬間しかないんだよ。この瞬間だけをあなたは変える事ができるんだ。だったら自分にできる最高の瞬間へとリフトアップさせようではないか。」

うーん、確かにそうだ。先生の言う通り。

私には私の人生があるように人にはそれぞれその人に与えられた人生がある。自分が選んできた結果の人生かもしれないし、まわりの圧力で押しつけられた結果の人生かもしれない。でも与えられた環境の中で、与えられた試練や幸福に感謝しながら、自分の人生を今この瞬間瞬間、精一杯生きていくことしか私達にはできないのではないか。それがたとえ、いつか誰かを不愉快にさせることにつながるとしても…

そんな事を考えた2021年のお正月だった。