Three or four
weeks ago, I received an email from a distant relative of mine who lives in the
U.S. The last time I saw her was a few
years ago at my home in San Dimas, California.
Earlier that day, I had invited an American friend of mine who teaches creative
writing at Santa Monica College. My
distant relative is also a professor in the Japanese language and culture at Irvine
Valley College.
“Are you in
Japan? Haruko san wants to get in touch
with you.” Haruko san is our mutual
relative.
“Yes, I’m in
Japan.” I added my address and phone
number to my reply.
To cut the story
short, someone has contacted Haruko san regarding Yamada Kikan who is my great
grandfather. Kikan is the father of my mother’s
father. Because of the internet and my
blogs, Asada san found me and had his granddaughter translated some of my
blogs. One of the blogs is about Yoshimura
Heishichi the fourth who is my other great grandfather. Heishichi is the father of my mother’s mother. In that blog, I pasted the url of the
organization, Takasaki Kurenai-no-Kai, and its founder’s name, Yoshimura
Haruko. So, Asada san sent his inquiry to
Haruko san about me.
Now, I found my new relative in Shimane prefecture. How wonderful! I told Asada san that I thought all my
relatives on my mother’s side always lived in Tokyo because growing up, all the
relatives’ homes I made visits with my grandfather or mother were all in Tokyo
except a summer house owned by my grandfather’s older brother. Shimane prefecture is quite far from Yokohama
and Tokyo. It’s beyond Kyoto. I’ve never been there.
Since our first email contact, Asada san and I have been exchanging
email and phone calls, but no snail mail yet.
It
is May 7th. I receive a phone
call from Asada san.
“Have you
received my mail?”
“No.”
“I sent it on
May 1st.”
“Have you sent
it by Blackcat Yamato?”
“No, I sent it
from post office.”
The Japan’s post
office has been privatized, and snail mail might come via one of commercial
delivery companies.
“Because you
said you are interested in writing about the literacy of Japanese women, I’ve
sent you a copy of Iwa san’s letter.
I went to a photo shop and made a color photo copy of the letter. That way, you can see more detail close to the
original.”
“Maa! Thank you!
Gee, I wonder what happened to the envelope.”
The letter means
it was written by my great grandfather’s mother to her younger sister. The mother’s name is Yamada Iwa, and the
younger sister, Tsukamoto Chie. Chie is
the great grandmother of Asada san’s wife.
The maiden name of Iwa and Chie is Kawakata. Iwa was born in 1837 and died in 1916.
Earlier,
Asada san and I had a phone conversation, and he told me about a number of
photos and letters related to the Yamadas he owns.
“The letter is
written on a small piece of paper,” Asada san says referring to Iwa’s letter.
“Is
that right?” I imagine the letter to be
like 3” by 5” or so. It’s probably like
a scratch paper. For some reason, it
looks casual, not formal in my head.
“She
wrote it in hentai-ji which was then the standards.”
Hentai-ji
is a mixture of kanji and kana without strict rules and usage. It’s been that way in writing Japanese up to
quite recently. The modern standard way
of writing was enforced throughout Japan in 1947. Before then, people used hentai-ji of various
kinds throughout Japan. The situation is
similar to Chaucer’s writing. Hentai-ji
is similar to that.
“That’s a true
wonder, Asada san! How had Iwa san learned
how to write such a long ago?”
“That’s been
quite a mystery to me,”
“Amazing!” I usually don’t ask people for anything, but
I wanted to see the letter even if it was a piece of scratch paper or the
content trivial.
“I don’t think she
went to school.”
My wish to take
a look at the letter shot up.
“I agree with you. I don’t
think there were schools for girls.
Asada san, I’ve been writing for a while. I’m interested especially in languages, and I’ve
been reading on related subjects like linguistic, history, comparative
literature whenever possible. I’m not working
on a degree, but I’m extremely interested in the literacy of Japanese
women. I want to write about it.”
“The letter is pink.”
“Pink?” I feel something throughout my whole body.
“Yes, it’s
written on a piece of pink paper.”
“Pink wash
paper!” I usually try not to ask people for
a favor.
“Please do me a favor and take a
photo and send it to me, please.”
“But I’m eighty
five years old.”
“85 is still
young! You can email. With a cell phone camera, it’s easy to take a
photo and attach it in email. Asada san! Please!”
“My cell phone
is old type.”
“You can ask
someone to take a photo and just click, click, and send. It’s very easy. If you can’t and if you don’t mind it, I’ll travel
to your place and take photos!”
I’m so excited. I haven’t been as excited as this for a long
time. If my mother were alive, this
would be her second dramatic discovery of our long lost relative. The first time was Haruko san’s family when I
was in elementary school. Haruko san is
my mother’s cousin. Before then, my
mother didn’t know she had a cousin in Takasaki City.
After our first phone
conversation, I feel glad just knowing a pink colored letter written by Iwa san
existed. I can still write something
about it without actually seeing it. I can
ask Asada san later more questions. I
enjoy talking with him, so he probably does also. We have the same mutual interest.
The envelope
containing the laminated copy of Iwa’s letter has arrived in that afternoon of
May 7th. Thank you, Asada san!
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