There are so many thoughts and recollections about your mother Nancy.  My first memory of her as Okasan (Obachan to you) is one early morning, October 27, 1928, I woke to the sound of a baby crying and astir in our little cottage.1  An old woman whom we knew as Fujii-no-obasan2 was in the bedroom with miso soup, rice and fish on a tray for Okansan’s breakfast.  Later in the week some neighbor woman came to visit Okasan and see the baby, bringing fruit, eggs, and fish.

In the days that followed, Jo and I continued to go to our school just a couple of blocks away.  Fujii-no-obasan came every morning to cook breakfast and fix meals for lunch and supper.

As the weeks, months and years went by, we saw Teru-chan grow.  She was bright and talkative and fun to play with.  There was one little girl a block away who was at the house almost daily. Emi-chan (Emiko Ogawa). 3

In time Teru-chan (Nancy) started in school and surprised her teachers by her brightness as well as her friendliness among her little peers, as well as ability to converse.  Most of the children came from Waialae and Kohala where their parents grew vegetables, flowers and poultry; and they would bring lunches from home (musubi, boiled egg, fish or chicken).

A few years later, our family grew, with the addition of Myra (1933) and Ozzie (1935).  We moved to Green Street in Makiki in 1936, on election day, when Roosevelt was elected).

Nancy went to school at Robert Louis Stevenson Intermediate, then went on to Roosevelt High School where she had a very active life, socially and academically.  By the time of her senior year, she was editor of the school paper, The Rough Rider.  Moreover, she was chosen to be one of the commencement speakers.  I remember helping her write and rehearse her speech.

Shortly before that she and a boy from another high school were awarded a wonderful scholarship by the Pepsi Cola Company.  The company had granted scholarships to top students in every state, with two scholarships for the Territories of Alaska and Hawaii.

It was already early in the 2nd semester (1946), and so many young veterans were applying for entrance to college and universities; so we had to work fast!  I don’t remember how many letters we wrote applying for entrance; there were quite a few acceptances considering that it was already spring.

Finally we got some acceptances and it was a question of which one we should follow up on.  Somehow it seemed that Swarthmore would be a good bet, for its high ranking and not-so-large student body.  So off Nancy went, and that was the beginning of more excitement to come.

In the first semester of her second year at Swarthmore (1949), she told of a very brilliant fellow student who had an impressive collection of butterflies, but was lacking in the Hawaiian monarch butterfly.

Working for Secretary of Hawaii Oren Long at the time, I had a good opportunity to contact Bishop Museum, and the young entomologist (will try to remember his name) brought some specimens and told me to select two or three to send Newton.  I believe this young curator packed and sent them, or maybe I did (memory not so bright at this point).

Not long after that – only a matter of a few months – came the news from Nancy that she and Newton Morton were getting married.  Fortunately, I had just acquired a very nice suit for myself4, altered to fit me, and it was the very thing Nancy could use for her wedding, which was held at Newt’s parents’ home.

By that time, Nancy had to leave Swarthmore because married couples were not accepted.  Newt stayed on to finish the year and shortly after they came to Hawaii where, in a few months (October) Teru was born.  What an exciting time that was – just within a few months Mabel and Jo had Naomi November 1; and Mae and Roman had Michael in December.  Obachan baby-sat all of them!

Not very long after, Newt and Nancy went to Japan, where Newt was with a research program studying the effects of the atom bomb on children born at that time in Hiroshima.  Peter was born while they were there.  Amy, John and Robbie came somewhat later.  I believe you have more information about that time.

Love,

Aunty Linnea

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A few details added by Ruthy from conversation with Linnea on the evening of 4/8/2021

1The little cottage was on Kaimuki Avenue, between 20th and 21st Avenues.  The road was paved only up to 20th; after that it was just red dirt.

2The Fujiis lived on 20th Avenue. Mr. Fujii was a mailman.

3Emiko Ogawa lived down the street and would always come to play with Nancy.  Her father was a yardman. Mrs. Ogawa took care of the children at home and maybe she did laundry for people. 

4The suit was from McInerney (department store).  I had to take the suit to a separate seamstress or tailor for alteration, and she practically had to take it all apart and re-sew it to fit me.  It was a very smart suit with a lining.

Dear Amy, Teru and William, Our hearts are with you during this difficult time of loss. You mother and grandmother was one of the kindest, loveliest and most gracious women I have ever met... always offering words of encouragement. I will never forget her contribution to the most special day of my life, when I married my husband. She spent days, sitting at the table, crafting beautiful flowers into hakus for the wedding party to wear in their hair. She wanted to make the day special and she certainly did. I loved her immense love and devotion to the kids and how much she loved living in Benicia. I remember driving her somewhere in town, when she uttered how beautiful the town was that afternoon and how fortunate she was to live there, near Amy and the kids. Her level of pride in their successes was immeasurable and she was fiercely protective of them. Very few of us are as fortunate as to having a Tutu touch our lives and her spirit and deeds will continue to live in the hearts of those she touched and loved. What a wonderful legacy she left, leaving us all much richer, just knowing her. She will be missed

Dear Teru, Peter, Amy, John and Robbie,

I read your Mom’s obituary in the Madison paper yesterday.  I am struck with so much sadness.  I am very sorry for your loss.

Your Mother had a big impact on my life.  Her strength, energy and kindness became guiding principles in my growing up,(which took much longer for me than for most—).  I remember having a difficult summer where she met me daily for a tennis game on the Crestwood courts.  I think she lived life the way she played those tennis games:  full of smarts, hard work and laughter.  She will always have a place in my heart.

Dear Amy,

I’m so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing.  She was a dear friend, and it is sad for me, because our friendship was so short, and I believe I missed out on spending more time with such a precious soul, one so kind, so loving, so peaceful and very thoughtful.  This may not have been the qualities that stood out in the younger Nancy, the professional and determined woman, but the Nancy, the mother I was fortunate to meet was all those things and so much more.  She was always a joy to be around and so full of information to share (gossip maybe).

Our last conversation was while she was at Rob’s house in Modesto last October or November I believe, and I could tell she was not doing well.  And, during her time at Brookdale I did notice that Nancy had begun to resign from the world and all her interests; she seemed to be letting go.  Life had lost its appeal, but she “put on a good face” and carried on without complaint or concern; and always, always a smile.  

I will always remember your mother with adoring affection.     
MAGDA
 

Nancy may have been small in stature but she was large in caring about others. She was well loved by many .She had such an infectious smile.
 

My very favorite childhood memory of Nancy was of her in full makeup and high heels. Wearing a sleeveless fitted dress with a flared knee length skirt. She was looking out over the kitchen sink in the Kahawai house eating a bowl of yogurt. Amy and I were about 11 yrs. old. She was the only woman I know who could make eating yogurt look glamorous while lecturing us on the correct way to bake chocolate chip cookies. I will miss her.

Your mother was five years older than I, and seven years older than your Uncle Oz. She had been preceded in birth by your Uncle Jo, Aunt Linnea, and Aunt Mae. Because she was the closest in age to Oz and me, your mother was often given the responsibility for looking after us from an early age. My earliest memories of your mother include walking alongside of her as she carried Akibo (Japanese nickname for Akira) on her back as we trekked to the public library, over a mile away. I was 5 years of age, Oz 3, and Nancy 10. Because of her verbal and physical precocity, she was often taken to be older than she actually was and assigned responsibilities accordingly.

On the other side of Nancy in age was our sister Mae, who was three years older. I remember Mae as being defiant towards our parents and older siblings, Jo and Linnea. She and your mother, too, had their differences, but there were times when they got along, chuckling over their commonly held views of their older siblings and teachers. Because of her verbal and social precocity, your mother succeeded in impressing her teachers, even during WWII, when as an intermediate school student her classes were disrupted or teachers reassigned (e.g., the instructor of the band, in which she played the flute, became her English teacher).I remember having to sit at the foot of her bed, enunciating English words from a list, to each of which she responded with its Latin equivalent.

Because of her physical maturity and language fluency, at age 16, she persuaded the manager of the most prestigious dress shop in Honolulu at the time (Carol & Mary’s) to hire her as a saleswoman. I was in the sixth grade then, and I remember how thrilled I was when among her first purchases there was a dress for me! 

Not long after that Nancy graduated from Roosevelt High school, the only English standard public high school at the time. There she impressed her teachers with her writing skills, as well as fluency in spoken English, against high odds, since Linnea had graduated at the top of her class there at the age of 14.Nancy was selected to be Editor-in-chief of the weekly school paper, The Rough Rider. She was also chosen to be the Valedictorian. Linnea, who herself had been the valedictorian of her graduating class, offered assistance in composing the speech. Meanwhile Nancy learned that she had won the four-year Pepsi Cola scholarship that would enable her to attend the college of her choice. She gained admission to Swarthmore College, which then was, as it is now, one of the most competitive liberal arts colleges in the country.

At Swarthmore, Nancy met your father, Newton Morton. They married in their sophomore year, and at the end of the year, they moved to Hawaii, where Newton enrolled at the University of Hawaii, and Nancy applied for the position of reporter at the Honolulu Star-Bulletin. It was there that their first child, Teru, was born, much to the delight of our family. Teru, and cousins Naomi (daughter of Jo and Mabel) and Michael (son of Mae and husband Roman Dukson) were born one month apart. They were a source of great joy to Ojichan and Obachan, although it meant less sleep for Ojichan, who worked the night shift as a copy reader/proof reader at the Honolulu Advertiser. For Obachan, too, it meant keeping the babies quiet while she set about doing housework and preparing 3-5 midnight meals (containing omusubi, kimchee or okoko, and sashimi or teriyaki) to be consumed late in the night by Ojichan and the Hawaiian linotypists whom he mentored.

Ojichan developed great affection for Newton, who shared his interest in nature, mountain-climbing and to whom he introduced elegantly hued and striped snails (landshells) found in the wooded hills of Honolulu. These shells Ojichan cleaned meticulously and placed in test tubes. Sometime after he had passed away, Linnea donated his massive collection to the Bishop Museum (I regret that I never saw them on display on my visits there).Perhaps some of you have shells from your father’s collection,

After I graduated from the University of Hawaii, I did not have the opportunity to see much of your mother, except when I was enroute to or from one of the eastern universities where I did my graduate work. Then I would make a brief stop-over in Madison, San Jose, or Vallejo to visit her. One exception was when she moved from Madison to Honolulu to take a job with the Lilliuokalani Foundation, which addressed the needs of Native Hawaiians. Nancy, like Ojichan (and, indeed, the rest of the Okazaki family) felt indebted and grateful to the Native Hawaiians, and she was happy for the opportunity to serve their community in whatever way she could through her position at the Foundation. Obachan by then was in the geriatric unit of Kuakini Hospital, and on my visits to Hawaii, I would visit her daily, bringing her bento lunches, and Nancy would join us whenever her assignments permitted.

There were other opportunities for Nancy and me to get together. I remember well my visit to San Diego when she lived there, and our crossing over into Tijuana to search for colorful pots for plants and fish-shaped plates that now hand on my wall. Nancy, in turn, visited me in Hamilton, NY, then drove down to Washington, D.C. with me, where I would be spending my sabbatical at the National Science Foundation. During our visits with each other, she spoke often of her children and grandchildren, expressing pride in their aspirations and accomplishments, and especially in their social values.

The last time I saw Nancy was on Christmas Day, 2019. She was visiting Teru and Adolphus. Teru had hosted a party the previous night at which Peter, Paul and friend, Oz, Elaine, Ellen, Mavis, Colin (Scott), Stafford, Ritsu, Bailey, and Kiki were present. It was evident that Nancy was trying her best to participate in the fun and games. When she was alone with Elaine and me the next day, it was apparent that she was physically and mentally exhausted. Nancy knew her time had come and was ready to exit knowing she could do no more for her children and grandchildren and wanting not to be a cause for concern to them.