MY MOST PRECIOUS HEIRLOOM
Jul
13
Finding the plate was part of Sam and my 10th anniversary trip in 1971. I had dreamed about going to Japan, since I was 9-years-old, attending Saturday Japanese School for 6 months in Gardena, California, when I first learned about Japan.
We were staying in East Hiroshima, Aki-Nakano, Sam’s Dad’s birthplace, with Uncle Jiro. The one-hour taxi ride, brought us to my Grandpa K’s birthplace - Ozuka-Numata-cho, the northern part of Hiroshima city. We asked the taxi driver to wait off the main road by the irrigation ditch.
Mr. Sugita, known for his ability in the ancient Japanese craft of nailless carpentry, was expecting us. We had met him in Seattle when he visited his son, Fred Yasunori - carpenter who built the tea house in the U of W Arboretum Japanese Garden. My Grandpa K gave the house to his sister, Tatsu, after his father, my great grandpa J, passed in 1939 and Mr. Sugita was her husband.
The oppressive Japanese summer air was gone so the crisp October morning was invigorating as we walked the dirt lane to the one-story farm house with the blue tile roof - like almost all roofs we had seen since we had been in Japan. I never figured out where the water-wheel was. My Mom had described one her grandpa had built for irrigation. My mom lost her mom in 1926 when she was 8-years-old. She and her three younger brothers were taken to this home in Hiroshima from Kent, Washington, by their grandfather for 8 years until 1936 when they came back to America.
We took off our shoes, left them in the engawa (a porch like room surrounding the front of the house) and had tea in the tatami room. We had a conversation in my limited Japanese, asking Sugita-san to show us around. First we had to use the “te arai” (literally, hand washing place).
Mr. Sugita waited for us by the kitchen door where there was a rack of persimmons hanging to dry for a winter treat. The dirt-floor kitchen was engaging. Sam’s aunt in Aki Nakano also had a dirt floor kitchen and we had watched her sweep in the morning, wearing a special pair of rubber slipper kind of shoes, and hand sprinkling water around to keep the dust down.
Hoping to find a momento or two to take back to Seattle, Mr. Sugita showed us the small unpainted shed-like barn. There were several boxes in the barn loft so we didn’t feel bad asking if we could have three or four of the dishes in the wooden crates stuffed with straw. It reminded us of how all the Japanese keep their living areas serene, even without any storage furniture and clutter. We were inspired to take this concept home to our own living areas.
We carefully carried the dishes down the ladder and back to the house. Mr. Sugita had no problem finding cardboard, twine and a silk tie-died furoshiki (wrapping cloth) to be sure there was no danger of breakage. It fit nicely in the extra blue Samsonite, empty suitcase Sam and I had taken for such items and souvenirs.
Shortly after we were there, the property was sold for a monorail that accessed the stadium for the world games.
Today, almost 50 years later, the dish sits prominently on the living room shelf with our many treasures, reminding us of the various stories of the 56 years Sam and I were together.
