Sticky Mangos and Flying Bombs...

Its never easy. Actually, I believe it gets harder the older you get...and more frequent. Growing up is never easy, and neither is getting older. I got news not too long ago that my grandfather passed away. We have been expecting it for some time now but it is never easy being actually faced with it.

As a child you always have a starry-eyed view of the people around you. Everybody is a god. Nobody can do anything wrong. I think one of the earliest memories I have is talking on the phone with my grandparents. Me, speaking english, and them speaking japanese. I didn't understand what was going on but I jabbered on about something or other, not pertaining to the conversation. Next, I remember going to Sacramento for New Years when i was about 7 or 8. I remember the beautiful garden and the wonderful food. I also vaguely remember going on walks early in the morning with Grandpa. The dew was just settling on lawns and the river in the neighborhood still had fog sitting on its banks. The distinct smell of dankness still lingers in my memories.

As a child, I really don't have too many vivid memories of the few times I did spend with my grandfather. He, in California (et al) and me growing up in Houston, visits were very rare. I remember Disney World. I remember it being very hot. I remember having tons of headaches. And I also remember Grandpa finding that one spot on my back, applying pressure, and poof, my headache was gone. I asked him to teach me that trick this summer, he just laughed and brushed me off. He probally didn't even remember the trick...but it helped me get through that trip. When we were going on the plane to return home to Houston, I remember him leaning down into my ear with a five dollar bill and a one dollar bill. He whispered, "which one do you want." I took the five dollar bill, smiled and thanked him. I don't remember if i showed my parents or not. He then continued to give my younger brother the one dollar bill. I thought I was very smart and clever...for choosing the bigger number.

Grandpa loved fishing. So does my little brother. I take dad's side...its good to eat but not fun to catch. Grandpa took me on my first and last fishing trip. He and grandma took a trip down to Houston one spring to visit us. There are two things I remember: Grandma's wonderful apple pie and how bored I got during Grandpa's fishing excursion. I wish, to this day, that i had a book. Of course, I didn't catch anything...Peter and Grandpa did...but i didn't. I'm not one to sit for three or so hours staring at the water. Jordan, my boyfriend...and an Eagle Scout, wants to take me fishing...and I remember back to that day on the local lake...shake my head and say, "hell no."

I have taken two memorable trips to Hawaii. One, when I was a Sophmore in high school (16 years) and again just this past summer (junior in college, 20 years). Again, there isn't much that i do remember from the first memorable trip...just afew stories and acouple trips to places that tourist rarely go. Last summer I learned alot though. I learned more about my grandfather than I ever have. I was able to avoid fishing, but spend little time on the beach...where the typical college student wants to go. I ate at restraunts that i probally would have never have gone to. But my fondest memory is him and grandma bickering...like any couple does. Now, that I'm seriously dating and looking at my elders as examples...I naturally look at my grandparents...people that I adore and respect. We were at dinner and Grandma sweetly says, "Tom, can you get my purse?"
Grandpa, already halfway out the door and 10 feet ahead of the rest of the family, turns around and strictly states, "No, get your own purse."
Very appauled yet still with a little smile in her voice, grandma huffs, "Tom, come get my purse for me...I can't get it..."
This continues with Grandpa, clearly alittle irritated but lovingly grabs Grandma's purse and walks out the door leaving Peter to help Grandma to the car. I laughed. I it was a typical lover's spat (as my coworkers say)...and to see it during 50+ years of marriage...made me feel better. It was adorable. Grandpa was independent to the end...with a wonderful heart. Grandma told us a story of when they still had a garden in Sacramento. Black birds were eating at some fruit they were growing. Grandpa got so fed up with the black birds that he finally was able to catch one with a water hose and trap it underneath a bucket. Grandma walked out of the house into the back yard to the sound of very strict scolding...Grandpa hunched over with his finger out telling this bird how bad of a bird it was. I can only imagine grandpa in his straw hat, hunched over, yelling at a bucket. He didn't have the heart to hurt the poor thing, so he ended up letting it go. I'm sure that bird thought twice before returning the next day for a piece of fruit.

I am proud of Grandpa. Which is backwards...a grandparent should be proud of thier grandchild. But I'm proud of my grandfather. I have always looked up to him. I admired his drive for the research he was conducting...for the findings he did discover...and for the work he did for his entire life. I admire him even if he conned his entire platoon out of thier money before reaching France. I admire him for the impact his research is going to do for the Japanese people. I'm proud to be his granddaughter. I come from a strong lineage...one that works hard and is hard headed.

I am a student at Texas Tech University. I am also taking Japanese so that I can learn more about my own heritage. Upon asking my Japanese professor how old he is, we (the class) gets the reply, "I'm an old man". I immediately think of Grandpa. He used to say that all the time: "I'm an old man". Yet, he had more stamina that I ever did.


Now I look up in the Lubbock sky and see beautiful stars. That is a plus for living in Lubbock, we get a beautiful sky and wonderful stars shining every night...not too much different to the Hawaiian sky. I pray that Grandpa is finally happy, and debating theories he had with God. That he is with me when I graduate and when my personal and professional life takes off. I want him to know that I'm working very hard in my Japanese class and that one day I will be able to talk to him in Japanese. I want him to know that I still admire him...even if he didn't let me inherit that painting/photo.

I stick up for him when i hear at the bar, "all those Japs ever did was bomb us". I can't even imagine the life he led during WWII. I admire him for it.

I wanted him to marry me. I wanted him to take me to Japan so that I could see it through his eyes. But now, all I want to do is go back to Baylor and walk on campus. Thinking. How it must have been for him when he was in college. That is the closest place I can be to him (location) right now. I guess that's ok.

Grandpa lived one of the most fullest lifes I can think of. And for that I admire him and strive for just as fulfilling of a life.

I love you grandpa, and I cry only because I love you.

- Reijn