Can't believe the two blooms appearing again just in time for the anniversary of Victor's passing!  Same time as last year!  Difficult month this year for me, so seeing the orchid bloom put a smile on my face.

One of the orchids your children gave to me from your "private nursery" after your passingbloomed two days ago,  Amazingly  just in time for the anniversary of your passing - two beautiful, delicate purple flowers.  When I saw the two blooms I immediately thought about Victor and Teru and all the orchids Teru tended to in the sunroom.  Time passes quickly and we miss both of you!

Ruth & I have fond memories of Victor and Teru when we served together in West Africa in Zaire and during our brief encounters in Gardena, CA after we retired.

In Zaire we remember the many dinner inviations we were invited to Victor and Teru's place. Living in Zaire for four years, it was a real treat to have nice dinners as good foods were not readily available so we appreciated their kindness. We also remember Teru who, at that time was the embassy nurse. Our son Jim, on a trip to the bush picked up a painful case of chiggers which Teru treated with professional care and skill. Jim still remembers Teru's kindness.

Lastly, I remember Victor's telling us about his gardening in Williamsburg when we met in Gardena. I was amazed at the variety of Japanese vegetables he grew, something I didn't think could be done on the east coast.

One comments I'd like to make, if appropriate in this space. Knowing about Victor's career as a Japanese American, his life story would be a great addition to the archives of the Japanese American National Museum of Los Angeles. His outstanding accomplishments and reputation should be recorded and shared and added to the heritage of persons of Japanese ancestry..

As a fellow Nisei and a volunteer at the Japanese American National Museum, I'm proud to have known Victor and Teru.

Sincerely,

Ike & Ruth Hatchimonji

Torrance, CA

We met in Kinshasa, Zaire (Now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) where I was assigned to the mission as part of the US. Agency for Intrernational Develoment staff from 1979 to 1974.

Some of fondest memeories were the dinners at the Matsui residence. In a country where good food is hard to find, the meals that were served were some of the best we've had. Teru, as the Embassy nurse, had occasion to treat our son Jim while he was on a visit. While on a cross country trip, we contracted chiggers in his feet. Returning to Kinshasa, Teru was very gentle in removing the painful chiggers. That experience is still remembered by Jim and we're forever grateful for Teru's help.

I recall many years later that we met Victor at a noodle restaurant in Gardena. I believe he was visiting from Williamsburg. What I remember about our encounter was his telling me about the growing of Asian vegetables and the wide variety of crops he produced. I was quite surprised that such crops could be produced in Virginia.

On learning about Victor's passing and Teru's earlier, we were greatly saddened but we remember what an accomplished man Victor was. There is much to be proud of by his family. He and Teru raised a great family.

Please accept our heartfelt condolences.

Sincerely,

Ike & Ruth Hatchimonji

Dad, we missed you and Mom at our recent get together at a beach house at Nag's Head, N.C. (Aug 18 - 25).  You would have enjoyed the ocean, the spectacularly orange moon one evening, the jacuzzi, the delicious meals put together by your children & spouses (sashimi, soft shell crab, shrimp, beef filet, salads, hearts of palm, etc.).  Much activity at the beach (swimming, wrestling, running, yoga) and the nearby Y (gym, Spin, indoor pool, dancing).

Last night, our first evening back in HK after a long flight, Martin & I came home to a very quiet home with Tina and Pumpkin.  Close to dawn, I dreamt that the immediate family were gathered together in a bus, touring some unknown place, laughing and generally having a good time being together.  I looked out the window and saw you seated at a stone embankment, smiling and waving at us.  You were dressed casually, in a shirt and khaki shorts.  Just for a split second, the realization that for some reason you were not with us inside the bus, but outside, troubled me.  I then remembered that you are no longer with us, but alerted everyone else that you were outside, as if to reassure us that you were in a good place, watching over us and making sure we were alright.

We are alright.  We are striving to lead our lives by your and mom's example.

It has been one year since you left us, but we think of you often and miss you a lot.

I don't really have a story just thoughts of Vic's advise to a wandering, aimlessly young man adjusting to his first overseas tour. I was a Marine Security Guard at
the US Embassy in Abidjan, Ivory Coast.

Vic asked me if I would like a home cooked meal, and of course I just loved to eat. Boy was I in for a treat that night....met Mrs.Teru Matsui and the small kids, don't rememeber the names, all I remember they were active kids. Mrs T apologizing for the mess. But the smell of food was proff positive in the air. I don't remember what I had for diner, but it was very good.
Moving along I was given advice about myself and how I should conduct myself in the world around me. There is so much to learn if I read and observe the things around me. He did not say these words but that is what I got out of his sermon. I am grateful that he came into my life.... when he did....every now and then I pass along the same, and thru the years I have met life long friends. mostly Asians....
My parents came from the Philippines, I was born in San Francisco, grew up in NYC....just grateful that Vic touched my life.

I'am sorry, I missed the point....My heart felt condolences to the Matsui Family.

Dad is an enigma to me to many ways – an enigma is defined as a person, thing or situation that is mysterious & difficult to understand.  When I first met my father-in-law, it was in the Roseland ballroom in Manhattan.  I was studying law in England and it was by chance that Martin and I became reacquainted after our respective graduation from Brown when I landed myself an internship with the UN in the summer of 1983.  The Saturday outing had been arranged and a motley crew of Brown and other friends decided to go dancing.  Among the twenty-something’s my silver-haired friend stood out not because of his age but because he was so quick to merge with the crowd.  I liked the fact that he was slightly taken by surprise when I invited him to the floor but he was quick to recover and graciously accepted.  He turned out to be a much more fluid dancer than his son.

As my relationship became more official with Martin, I also came to know my father-in-law better.  But one thing always gnawed at me: he was unfailingly diplomatic and always maintained a determined and detached neutrality on all issues, personal and otherwise.  Like most of you, I never saw him lose his temper nor utter a prejudiced word against anyone or any situation.

The following illustrate my father-in-law’s character:

His calm demeanor (at least that was how I knew him after his retirement from a long and decorated career with the State Dept.) belied his attention to detail and the continuous ability to focus on and extrapolate what he deemed interesting with an impish sense of humor.  He treated all questions and situations with equanimity.  I found this copy of an email reply from him written in 1999:

“Some time ago you asked about the exact time when Martin appeared with his umbilical cord attached.  Just this evening Mom located old fading papers including a Thai translation.”

This email goes on to state the names of the parents and location of Martin’s birth, signed by the Registrar with a note: “The new born baby to be named within 6 months from date of birth and this certificate to be shown to the registrar”.

 “Now the interesting question.  Mom does not recall returning to the Registrar with the name.  It was all done at the Bangkok Embassy with the help of Vice Consul Richard F. Nyrop with whom we served together in Karachi, Pakistan in 1962 – 65.  If no one returned to the Registrar with a name, presumably he has Martin listed as a Mr. Blank.  Under Thai law, anyone born in Thailand is subject to military conscription.  Perhaps the fact that Martin was able to visit Bangkok subsequently without being snatched by the military worthies is because it is hard to track anyone these days whose name is a blank.”

For the Chinese & especially the Buddhists, the 49th day after one’s death or the completion of the 7th cycle is a significant day since this is the time when the soul is finally reconciled to the fact that the body is no longer united with it.  There is a peaceful separation and the chance of being reincarnated into a new cycle of life.  Like the gentle light that shines through the gap between the curtains each morning, dad’s presence is felt and remembered in my heart as someone with a boundless thirst for knowledge, who served his country in an exemplary fashion and loved his family and friends generously.  Most important is the fact that he chose to see the glass as always being half full, if not spilling over with exciting possibilities.

This is a story told often by our mother (Tomiko - Vic's mother).

When Vic was little, he had a dog, Jimmy,  but in this case, actually I'd say the dog had a boy....
 
Jimmy and Vic were constant companions and Vic mimicked everything Jimmy did  did. One day Victor was limping and later the family noticed Jimmy had hurt his leg and was limping.  

The dog also always licked my hair (I'm Walt, Vic's younger brother by 4 years) so apparently my hair / head was always wet.  

Now, you'll recall my earlier comment about Vic always copying exactly what the dog did....


        

In Memory of Victor Matsui

Who would have known when Eric and I moved into Queens Lake nineteen years ago we would have been blessed with such wonderful neighbors and the opportunity to become such good friends with Teru and Victor Matsui.  It was a friendship that developed slowly and over time blossomed into a relationship that seemed more like that of family.

Teru was instrumental in assisting me during a time when we were trying to have children.  Since in vitro was the avenue we had to pursue to start a family, Teru administered shots that I needed to take that I could not give myself.  She was kind and gentle and was gifted in administering shots that were painless.  It left me wondering why all nurses weren’t that skilled.

When Teru became ill she seemed to always keep a positive attitude and quietly and gracefully left this world surrounded by her family.  She was a remarkable woman leaving behind a wonderful husband and family.

After Teru’s passing our family felt a strong desire to include Victor in our lives as much as possible.  Eric and I would check in on Victor and be drawn into conversations that would last hours.  We would invite him to dinner regularly and he would always show up with something, whether it be nuts, chocolates, or snacks that the boys liked.  I would tell him that he didn’t need to bring anything (especially since he ate with us quite a bit), but being “old school” he never showed up empty handed.  The twins always looked forward to his goodies.  We would have wonderful dinner conversations about his life, his family, his travels, politics, religion, raising children, basically anything and everything. If I had a particularly trying day with my sons, I would talk with him about it and he would tell me stories about how he was a “naughty” boy when he was young and give me hope that everything would turn out fine.  I would always send leftovers home with him and it would make me laugh and smile when he would inform me how many meals he got out of the leftovers.  Although I am by no means a gourmet cook, Victor was always gracious, kind and grateful, no matter what was on the menu for dinner.

There are so many happy memories that come to mind when I think of Victor.  He shared many activities with us to include our son’s basketball games, track meets, flag football games, William & Mary basketball games, hanging out at the pool, vacation bible school performances, birthdays, Fourth of July festivities and fireworks, church Christmas concerts, driving around neighborhoods looking at the Christmas light displays and lots of Christmas activities and fireworks.  Victor and I both tended to stay up very late into the evening, or should I say into the wee hours of the morning.  I would be in my office working and from my office window I could see Victor’s house and knew he was up because I could see the lights on.  Another sure sign was the fact that his emails were being received in those wee hours of the morning.  I would send him an email back stating, “Shouldn’t you be in bed since you have your swimming and spinning class in the morning?”   He would reply, “you too.”  I also knew when he had fallen asleep at the computer because the emails ceased coming.  I think he spent more time sleeping in his chair than in his bed.

Victor was kind enough to include us in his family New Year’s Dinner and would explain the significance of certain Japanese foods on the table as it pertained to New Years.  For example, they would have buckwheat noodles which signified the tying of the old year to the New Year.  From now on the noodles will also represent in my mind the tying of our hearts here on earth to the heart of Victor in heaven.  The food was always wonderful, but most of all the friendship and conversation will be forever remembered.  Several times my sons and I were able to spend a day at the beach in the outer banks with his entire family, since they were down there on their family holiday and my mother owned a house down there where we stayed.  The boys always enjoyed hanging out with Victor’s grandchildren and they were always kind enough to tolerate my young ones.  I remember this past summer we were all on the beach at the end of the day and the Matsui clan was getting ready for their family picture.  Martin was the photographer and carefully set up the camera on the timer, had everyone situated around Victor, then ran to his spot.  I remember how Victor had a great big smile on his face, looking like a proud peacock with his children and grandchildren surrounding him.  If Victor was indeed a peacock each plume in the fan like display would represent the stages of his life and the people that mattered most to him.  The vibrant colors in the peacock’s fan represent a vibrant man who lived life to the fullest, until the end.  Although polite and unassuming, a consummate gentleman with never an unkind word to say, Victor left an indelible mark on all that met him.  Like the peacock in full strut, it was impossible to forget Victor, the man, the husband, the father, the grandfather, the military man, the friend.  The beauty and presence of this man will be forever burned into our hearts and minds.  Victor was loved and respected by many and will be forever missed.

Paul’s great essay in 1 Corinthians 13 celebrates the depth and tenacity of the love that carries us beyond self-interest and mere affection. “Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails” (vv. 4-8).

When we grieve for a loved one, it is vital to recall the cherished details and shared experiences of our lives together. Those memories flood our hearts and it is a time to remember deeply, giving God thanks for the details, the many stories, and the impact of an entire life. It’s time to pause, reflect and honor.   One day when I was doing my run around our neighborhood I was thinking about Victor and how I was going to miss seeing him in his driveway pulling the weeds and carefully extracting Japanese maple seedlings to transplant.  The dogwoods, red buds, and azaleas all in full bloom with a spectacular display of color reminded me of how Victor loved this time of year in Queens Lake.  As I was running I was praying to God for a sign that Victor was okay and as I ran back down my street, past Victor’s house there was one bright red camellia in full bloom on a tree in the corner of his yard.  It jumped out at me because there were no other flowers on the entire tree and it was past it’s time of blooming.  I knew right then and there that God had answered my prayer.

“In an effort to face the challenges of life, we often turn to Solomon’s words: “To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven (Ecclesiastes 3:1). But we readily admit we would rather laugh than weep, dance than mourn, and gain than lose “(vv.4, 6). Yet we know that as we embrace the lessons and opportunities of every season that comes to us, we find that “God is our refuge and strength” (Psalm 46:1). As we mourn the passing of Victor Matsui may we rejoice in having had him with us for 88 years. and knowing that he is in the loving arms of our savior, Jesus Christ.  I know he is peering down from heaven with a great big smile, so proud of his family and the legacy he has left behind. 

In the words of Kem Lee Sun, “Every sunset brings us peace, every sunrise brings us hope.” 

A poem written by Phyllis Culp Mabry is as follows:

Look Toward the Sunshine

If we look toward the sunshine

            Where everything’s bright

And keep our thoughts trained on

            That glittering height…

If we know where the sun is

            Though clouds block the way

We can see through their mists

            To a happier day.

Shared times, shared memories, shared joys…these special things keep a loved one close.  Loving memories live on forever.  Even in our sadness we know that just as the sun will set then rise with each and every dawn, we can hold on to the thought that a life lived well with so much love never really ends, but goes on forever in the hearts of those who remember.

Victor Matsui, was a son, brother, husband, father, grandfather, uncle, cousin and friend. Each of our individual relationships with and love for him is like a lovely bridge between our hearts and his. It is a bridge each one of us has built down through the years, just to our own design…It’s based on happy memories of the good times that we’ve known and the hopes and dreams we have shared. It has grown with every smile and every act of kindness. I know that if Victor is near (in each of our hearts) or if he is miles apart (in heaven); our love and friendship still unites us with a bridge from heart to heart.

Godspeed Victor. We will miss you and love you always.

April Warren-Horne (Eric, Conner & Carson)

Dear Vincent, Mary, Victoria, Martin, Christine, Madeleine, Celeste, Matthias, Linda, Craig, Casey, Alex, Marcia, Akira, Kenzan, and Kaison,

We will miss your dad and grandpa as the patriarch, historian, war hero, prolific emailer of jokes and current events, and uncle.

He left indelible memories on all of us with his rare knack of storytelling and vast knowledge on a variety of subjects.  As patriarch and historian he was the link to the memories of our great-grandparents, grandma and grandpa, and the childhood memories of the Matsui’s. 

Uncle Victor honorably represented the Matsui family and himself serving with the Military Intelligence Service (MIS) during World War II.  His dedication to this country continued during his years with the American Diplomatic and Foreign Service.  We were honored to be at the Congressional Gold Medal Ceremony for him, as well as the other deserving men of the 100th, 442nd, and MIS. 

Whenever we saw Uncle Victor he always had a story or joke to share, and of course he continued to educate us through emails with fascinating facts, politics, history, common sense, and jokes.  As an uncle, whatever the occasion, he tried to be there or would send heartfelt notes of support, wisdom, and congratulations.

On July 20, 2009 Uncle Victor’s words of wisdom related to family reunions:

“It is nice to gather the family so that one, especially the youngsters, can become bonded with one another and with the older generation.  For the seniors, this is a nice way of growing older gracefully and imparting their wisdom on to the younger set.”

What we admired most about Uncle Victor was his zest for life and the pride he took in his children and grandchildren’s accomplishments.  He shared all the proud moments of graduations, jobs, marriages, births, and sporting events – and of course, he never forgot to include the dogs.

Lastly, Uncle Victor was truly an inspiration on how to live life to the fullest.  We will miss him.

Love,

Lori Taniguchi, Terry Stewart, Sammie & Hachiko

Dateline: 11 November 2011 White House.

President Barack Obama offered his personal congratulations to four Nisei World War II veterans for the award of the Congressional Gold Medal at a White House breakfast on November 11, 2011. In recognizing the hard won efforts of Kelly Yeiichi Kuwayama, Minoru Nagaoka, and Terry Shima, former soldiers of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team as well as of Victor Matsui, a former soldier in the Military Intelligence Service, the President said, "Congratulations on winning this high award. I regret I was on travel in Europe which precluded my participation in the Capitol Hill presentation ceremony. (However,) I am sure you saw my letter and I also cut a video to be presented at your dinner."

Mr. Shima, on behalf of the veterans remarked, "Mr. President, we appreciate your support of veterans and your remarks about the Nisei who were awarded the Congressional Gold Medal. Japanese Americans are proud to be the recipients of the highest honor the nation can confer."

The President then responded, "I was told there will be no group photos. However, let's make an exception for the 442nd." With that order from the Commander-In-Chief, the Nisei soldiers proudly posed with the President.

All four Nisei were invited to the White House at the request of Veterans Affairs Secretary Eric Shinseki. The breakfast is a traditional annual event on Veterans Day, arranged by the Department of Veterans Affairs (DVA), for representatives of DVA recognized veterans service organizations.

Photo caption - President Obama met four Nisei at the Blue Room of the White House. L-R: Minoru Nagaoka, Victor Matsui, President Obama, Kelly Kuwayama, and Terry Shima. White House Photo.

In my early days as a manager at the Hong Kong branch of a U.S. securities company, I would hand out bonus cheques to the sales force.  This was in the mid-1990's when the East was Red and there was a big demand for qualified sales staff.  The market was so hot that I used to quip that as long as a candidate said that he liked Chinese food he could get a job in finance in Hong Kong.  Expectations by employees were often not met by reality and my colleagues would grouse that if they moved to another securities house their bonus would be much more impressive.

In these situations I would tell my colleagues that they needed to keep the big picture in mind and that money wasn't everything.  I cited the case of my father who from what I could tell never had a bonus.  At the time of his retirement at age 65, his salary in US dollars was in the mid five figures.  Somehow he had managed to put his four kids through private university and bought a house (actually two).  In all my assessment was he was a successful human being.  After telling this story to several disgruntled salesmen, I got a call from our personnel chief.  She told me how she had been hearing stories about 'Martin's father.'  Her advice was 'Martin you have to stop talking about your father.  No one wants to hear about how underpaid he was. And besides this isn't the U.S. government.'  So I stopped telling that story but Dad still remained a legendary person.  Over the years as Dad visited Asia, I would introduce him to my former colleagues so they could see that I wasn't exaggerating when I had told them you could be a well balanced person and be paid like a civil servant. 

I always thought of Uncle Victor as an educated man, a teacher of sorts.  Even with many years of education, I found there were many things I didn’t know through the emails Uncle Victor would share with family and friends.  With the click of the mouse I learned the following from theVictorMatsuiUniversity:

Basic Skills:  Useful Google Web Search Tricks, WD 40 Uses, Time Zone Converter, and 24 Clever Ideas to Make Life Easier.

Natural Science:  MappingAmerica, Topography of Religion, and the unlikely friendship of Owen the hippo and Mzee the tortoise. 

Humanities:  Carved Tree Trunks inAustralia, Japanese Rice-Field Art, 100 Greatest Military Photographs, and Philosophy.

Social Sciences:  The Ten Commandments of Life, Five Lessons about the Way We Treat People, and Global Politics.

Lifelong Learning and Self Development:  Home Instead and Compare Senior Housing Options.

Communication and Analytical Thinking:  Eight Habits of Effective Managers and the 10 Companies with the Toughest Interview Questions.

Health and Physical Education:  One-Minute Intervals Can Improve Your Health and Osteoporosis is not just about Lack of Calcium.

Mathematics:  Mathemagician and Mathematical Problems.

Now whenever I’m reading my email, I will imagine Uncle Victor sitting at his computer with his smiling face sending out emails to educate and humor family and friends.  I will miss you Sensei (teacher).

Dad bypassed the confusing birth of the personal computer and went straight to the Mac.  Vincent was one of the original Mac evangelists in the early 1980's and so Dad and Mom were given their first Mac I guess about a dozen years or so ago.  The idea of email being 'free' appealed to him since Dad spent a lot of time forwarding email he received from his primary sources including Eric, Emily and Al.  So my inbox would have Emily's golf joke which shortly after would be forwarded to me again by Dad.  The amount of email that he forwarded to his distribution list rose to such volume that AOL once locked up his account since they considered his mailing habits to be that of a spammer. 

His emailing was a nocturnal activity.  The forwarded emails had many topics including  what we should do in Iraq or else new uses for WD-40.  Their main signal to me his reader was that he was awake, sitting in the kitchen and forwarding mail using his Mac Air.  No email from him was a lacuna that had to be investigated, sometimes by asking his neighbor Eric to check in on him.  

I'm sure some of his readers must have been pondering a polite way to get off of his bulk mailing list.  The dilemma was pointed out to me by Ed Kane who once told me 'I don't mind being on his email list but there are so many of them, please let me know when there's something important for me to read and you send it to me directly.' The other thing that puzzled some people is the strange hours of his correspondence.  He would nod off at 10:00 p.m. in front of his computer, wake up at 2:00 a.m. and send out some more messages and then fall into his bed before waking up at 7:00 a.m. for his aerobics class at the Y. 

I haven't received any email from him for the past week.  I'm getting used to the idea that vicmatsui@aol.com will no longer be sending out its key signal which said to me 'all is well'. 

Every winter Victor tagged along with Pop, Mr. Sugino, and Mr. Mibu to dive for abalone, crab, and lobster along the Palos Verdes coast.  Even though the ocean was very cold Victor would dive in with just his swimming trunks to the ocean floor, holding his breath while fighting to dislodge the abalone’s powerful grip on the rock.  After exiting the frigid waters there was a fire to warm him up.  The men not only had to deal with the cold weather, they also had to make sure they did not go over the abalone limit since the game warden was always on the lookout.  We often ate fresh awabi (abalone) sashimi on the beach.  If there was any left mom would make dried abalone.  I attribute our love for seafood to those early years.  When we would get together for Oshogatsu (Japanese New Year), mom would try to make sure we had abalone and lobster.

As an older brother I always looked up to Victor, in many ways he was like a father to us.  I will miss him.

Since I grew up on the West Coast, I didn't see Uncle Victor and Auntie Teru that often.  In October 1986, my sister Lori and I have fond memories visiting Uncle Victor and Auntie Teru in Williamsburg, VA.  We deemed them the "perfect hosts".

Uncle Victor picked us up at the train station and drove us home.  As we were driving to his house, I recall feeling like we were going to the country; small roads and lots of trees (unlike CA).  Their house was like a museum--filled with artifacts from their travels.  Auntie Teru had framed photos everywhere--not only of her kids but of us as well.  We were showed our "wing" of the house--with our own private bedroom and bathroom.  They told us their refrigerator was filled with my favorite drink, Coke.  For dinner we went to an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet--my first buffet ever.

Uncle Victor gave us a private guided tour of Colonial Williamsburg.  He was an official guide and translator for Japanese visitors.  We were also surprised to discover that Uncle Victor liked to shop which is one of our favorite hobbies.  He loved bargain shopping and bringing home garage sale treasures.  Uncle Victor was on the lookout for thimbles for mom, pigs for Auntie Nak and frogs for himself.

Uncle Victor and Auntie Teru both loved to garden.  The victory garden outside was filled with vegetables he shared not only with family and friends, but with the animals who also enjoyed his crops.  There were beautiful flowers outside and inside the house was filled with African violets.  To nourish all these plants, Uncle Victor created a mulcher out of an old washing machine drum (photo posted).

The last time I saw Uncle Victor was at the Congressional Gold Medal Ceremony last October.  After the ceremony there was some time to visit other veterans and their families.  Since Uncle Victor was wearing his MIS cap, he was stopped by several people who asked him if he knew their father/grandfather and in between he was giving interviews.

I will always remember Uncle Victor with a smile on his face and with an interesting and funny story to tell.  Uncle Victor made me feel like whatever I was doing was important and special.

After Mom passed away close to four years ago, Dad had to re-invent himself since he wanted to live independently.  He casually fended off my sisters' strategems to domesticate him such as having a day nurse or subscribing to a home cleaning service. 

He pretty much had to start from ground zero.  Linda for instance pasted some pictures on the washing machine telling him what to do with his laundry.  He had to learn how to use an ATM since he was used to standing in line at the bank to get cash. 

It's a good thing that he was used to eating Army fare since I had never seen him cook anything in my fifty year acquaintance with him.  His discovery of the crock pot was a revelation.  He told me that he would buy a roasted chicken at the supermarket and it would last him for three days.  The first day he ate the meaty part.  The second day he could make a sandwich out of the trimmings.  The chicken carcass would find its way into the crock pot and by the third day was good for soup.  By the fourth day, the residue in the crock pot would be poured over white rice. 

My Hong Kong friends who have gone to English boarding school have saluted my father's principle of not succumbing to the easy lure of instant noodles.  During one friend's time in boarding school, he related how he survived by filling his dormitory sink with hot water and then cooking his instant noodles inside. 

Luckily Dad's neighbors the Hornes would invite him over from time to time for  a home-cooked Sunday dinner so his crock-pot could have a rest. 

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

Mary Elizabeth Frye 

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dad used to tell the story of how when he was a teenager and old enough to drive his father's Model T, he and Grandpa would drive from farm to farm greeting the New Year with their neighbors.  As part of New Year's tradition, they would be served sake and by the time they had finished their rounds both driver and passenger were well liquified.

Dad used to refer to himself as "monsieur cent kilos" and was one of the few people I know who weighed less at 45 then he did when he was 18 years old (mainly because Dad's varsatarian interest was sumo wrestling).  His solidity made it difficult for him to get inebriated and in truth I never saw him get close to being drunk but Jim English did.  

The story took place during the Occupation in Niigata prefecture.  If you've read Yasunari Kawabata, you know that this part of Honshu facing the Sea of Japan is famous as yukiguni or Snow Country.  Think 6 to 10 feet of snow.   See the Douglas Brooks story below with accompanying photo to get an idea of what I am talking about.  In Jim's words,

"we were stationed in Niigata-shi when a directive from Tokyo arrived, reporting on a letter written by a young man in a remote village in our prefecture which had turned up in the spot-checking of civilian mail that was being carried out by the occupation forces.  The letter was threatening to Mac Arthur, and our unit was instructed to follow up on the person who wrote it.  Vic was given the assignment, with me to tag along.  We drove some distance in our jeep, but there was so much remaining snow (in April) that we had to walk the last several miles up a mountain.  There were police stations along the way that plied us with sake - up and back. When we got back to the town where our jeep was, the police chief and the mayor had laid on a big party.  We took hot baths before dinner, and that was when I had to help poor Vic out of the tub.  But what he didn't tell you was that the banquet went on for hours, with more and more sake being offered, back and forth, etc. and finally it was Vic who had to help me get from the dinning room to my bed and, in fact, back to Niigata-shi the next day.  I have never much liked sake since then.  As for the young man who wrote the letter, he had left the village some time before and gone to Tokyo."

So Dad confessed to Jim that the volume of sake had paralyzed him and he could not get out of the bath.  Somehow Jim was able to extract 'monsieur cent kilos' from the bath otherwise he would have been slowly cooked like an oden egg and I wouldn't be telling you this story now.  Dad's telling of this story would always end in his reciting his key takeaway of this incident of the wood-fired Japanese tub, namely:

Fire is hot

Water is wet

and Whiskey will make you drunk.

Vic was my big brother.  For those of you who don’t have a big brother, it might be hard to understand what he meant to me.  For as long as I remember, I looked up to him and he was always looking out for us.  When our farmhouse burned down (as mentioned in another shared story) Vic did save his encyclopedia.  But not before he saved our entire family.  We were trapped in the farmhouse with no easy way out (the fire was so hot, we couldn't use the front door).  Vic kicked down the wall of the house to make an opening for us to escape.  He was a true hero.

Years later, when he was serving in the army, he found out that his younger brothers and sisters were looking for a way to commute from Seabrook to Philadelphia.  He sent home money so we could buy a new car that we used to get to school and work.  Even from a world away, he was looking out for us.

That's just how he was.  I know how lucky I am to have had a big brother like Vic – I miss him already. 

Death Is Nothing At All

Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my old familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it

Life means all that it ever meant
It is the same as it ever was
There is absolute unbroken continuity
What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner

All is well.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost
One brief moment and all will be as it was before
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

Death Is Nothing At All by Canon Henry Scott-Holland, 1847-1918

I corresponded with Mr. Matsui briefly a few years ago.  I had become friend with James English, who had served with Victor in the Occupation in 1946 in Niigata Prefecture.  I wrote to Victor in hopes of locating George Ishida, another soldier who served with Jim.  I had done a good deal of research in Niigata and when I saw Mr. English's photographs from 1946 I shared them with contacts I had in the prefecture.  As a result, over the last several years there have been various exhibitions of these images that have been extremely well-received in Niigata and generated significant news coverage.  Currently an exhibition of these photographs by the Niigata Prefectural Museum of HIstory is touring the prefecture.  I will attach here photographs of Mr. Matsui, all taken in Niigata in 1946.  My sincere condolences to his family, and if anyone has any questions about the exhibition please feel free to contact me at douglasbrooksboatbuilding@gmail.com.
Sincerely,

Douglas Brooks 

Dear Martin,

I am sad to learn that your Dad passed away yesterday.

However, I would like to share with you a short poem supposedly said by our beloved ones departed, which helped me a lot when my beloved son passed away 10 years ago.

"Death is nothing at all, I have only slipped away into the next room.

I am I, and you are you.

Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.

Call me my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always used.

Put no difference in your tone,

wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.

Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.

Let it be spoken without effort, without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that is ever meant.

It is the same as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity.

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?

I am waiting for you, for an interval,

somewhere very near,

just around the corner.

All is well."

Take care, Martin.

At dinner in St. Malo, France, Grandpa was explaining to us why it can sometimes be hard for men to have good french accents. He explained that there are a lot of words in french where you have to make a fishy-ish/kiss face, something a lot of American men aren't comfortable/used to doing. In an effort to improve his french accent Craig then took some lessons from Grandpa in how to make the proper "french face." 

VICTOR,

SADLY, I KNEW THIS DAY WOULD COME ALL TO SOON, AND NOW IT IS HERE. I HOPED FOR AT LEAST A FEW MORE YEARS WITH YOU, PERHAPS EVEN A DECADE, BUT NOW THAT'S NOT TO BE AND MY LIFE AND THE LIVES OF ALL THOSE THAT I LOVE AND CARE FOR WILL BE MADE SO MUCH POORER BY YOUR ABSENCE. YOU WILL BE MISSED VERY MUCH.

Dear Martin & Christine,

When Dad was a young boy he liked to walk around with a live frog in his pocket.  His family had a vegetable farm so there must have been a lot of these amphibians available.  He told me that he liked to turn them over and pat their white stomachs which made a comforting "pom pom" sound when you patted them. 

Now in Japanese the word "frog" is "kaeru" and is a homonym for another Japanese verb which means "to return."  He spent most of his life away from his parents in Japan, Cambodia, Egypt, Pakistan, Ivory Coast and the Congo.  Even when he was in the U.S., he and his parents lived on opposite coasts.  He was very filial and I infer as the oldest son wanted to tell his parents that he would return and be with them even though he was most of the time far away.

This sort of thinking explained his frog collection.  In his living room you will find a fantastic variety of frogs made out of malachite, ceramic, plastic, wood and other materials.  I think about these frogs now, at dusk waiting in the twilight for their owner to return. 

There's a famous story in our family about the time that the farmhouse in which Dad and his five siblings lived burned down.  According to family lore, there was only enough time to retrieve one or two objects because of smoke and related dangers.  Dad came out of the house carrying his encyclopaedia.  

Ever since Dad could not resist browsing in bookstores (particularly those that offered used books).  Mom would regularly complain about his inveterate book collecting and the state of his study which is packed with books illustrates his life-long love affair with the printed word.  I think the fact that he could not complete his UCLA medical degree because of the war contributed to his need to have knowledge around him.  We now need to find a way to disperse his library and one idea I am promoting is that we let his friends browse from the library and take home a few books with them.  I think Dad would have approved of this idea since each book was his friend.

His interest in reading also extended to literary criticism.  He didn't like fuzzy writing and would regularly extoll the virtue of being precise and to the point.  In his day job, he must have been forced to read a lot of garbled prose in memoranda and telexes.  He regularly reminded me that studying English was a worthwhile pursuit which probably explains why I studied comparative literature at college (and Vincent too for that matter). 

Even Dad's name had a literary allusion.  He told us that his father liked reading Victor Hugo.  This explanation caused me some relief that my grandfather had neither read nor taken a liking to Russian novelists otherwise Dad would have been named Fyodor, Anton, Leo, or Vladimir. 

Dad was a man easily moved by poetry.  When he was in grade school, he was given an assignment to memorize a poem.  Dad went to the library and found the most poignant (i.e. shortest) poem he could find which read as follows:

Purple Cow

I have never seen a purple cow

But I can tell you anyhow

I would rather see one than be one.

Fast forward 70 years.  I don't know whether it was karma or the true destiny of his grandson Kaison.  Kaison matriculated to Williams College where the school mascot is ... the Purple Cow. 

There are probably only two or three modern appliances that have really contributed to human happiness.  One is the electric rice cooker.  The second must be the electric mochi maker.  When Dad was young and reigning yokozuna of Little Tokyo (but that's another story), mochi (or pounded rice cakes) were made the old fashioned way.  This way required two strong men:   One who would use a heavy wooden mallet (think oar-sized wooden implement) who would pound the steaming rice which was in a large wooden pestle the diameter of a small tree.  The other (braver in my opinion) would scoup up the steaming rice mass in between whacks and turn it upside down so that the the steaming rice ball would be evenly smooshed.  This effort required very close coordination between the two since any mistep could result in a hand getting clobbered by the mallet. 

About 20 years or so ago, Dad's mother-in-law came to live with him and brought her Panasonic/National electric mochi-maker with her.  This thing represented the pinnacle of Japanese technology and incorporated a steamer and a rotary mixer all in one.  The appliance was about the size of a large thermos and could produce fantastic mochi. 

Dad really took this invention to heart and although he generally could not cook, he was the family mochi maker.  Whenever we would visit Williamsburg, he would fire up the mochi maker.  Half of all production would be consumed on the spot mostly by his grandchildren and the other half would be vacuum packed to be taken back to places near and far like New York or Hong Kong.  Season was no bar to making mochi (unlike in old times when it was mostly made during New Year's).

Dad had this theory of happiness which is that it is a good idea to take small pleasures on the road of life.  Making mochi I think had a role in this view of the world.