Taka's Beads

About the Book

Childhood Once there was a pink-eyed boy who suffered from trachoma. His name was happened to be Torao, so I called out to him, “Hey, Tora Tora!” for trachoma. Of course, that made him furious; he chased me with a long bamboo stick, and I had to run like hell. I was almost at my door when he caught up and hit me. Mother was so shocked. “Why did he do that to you?” “That’s all right, Mother,” I said, feeling I deserved it. The Pioneer I was awakened by a commotion in the hold of the freighter Kaiun-maru. I rushed up to the deck with my shipmates of thirteen days at sea. The sky was still dark; I rubbed my half-open eyes and saw the horizontal black band passing slowly overhead. Someone whispered, “The Golden Gate Bridge!” At last! Is this really America, not Japan? I spotted what looked like ghostly tombstones off to my left. Minutes passed; they changed colors from gray to pink as they were touched by the rising sun. This must be a wonderful land of giants. I found myself in love with a whole new world. As we disembarked, I wished Dr. Shinoda and Reverend Tsuboi good luck. While on board, they taught me poker, and I remember sneaking into the ship’s kitchen, where we made ourselves rice balls before I retired to my cabin for a nap before breakfast. My roommate, a lady minister, disapproved of our “gambling activities” and gave me the silent treatment. It didn’t bother me in the least. My only worry was that we might be shipwrecked before reaching America. In fact, I went to sleep smiling to myself at the thought of the captain’s reassurance that his ship would never sink. “Don’t worry,” he had said. “I haven’t lost one yet.” On the other hand, once the ship docked, my dream was over. In 1962, the Japanese government placed a tight restriction on spending, so that only businessmen and a handful of students were allowed to travel abroad. I, as a student, was permitted to purchase only a one-way ticket to America, and my spending allowance was $200 for my entire stay. And before being allowed to leave Japan, our government had to be guaranteed that our sponsors would be responsible for us. I was an adult, not a child or beggars; I couldn’t just depend on a stranger’s mercy. My uncle Nobutsugu, who traveled twice a year to the United States on business, had given me a check for $300, but I wanted an equal footing. I offered my service in exchange for the room, board, and tuition that my sponsor would provide for me. We reached an amicable agreement, I believe. On top of this humiliating arrangement, a clerk at the American Embassy asked me if this was a prearranged trip to marry my American boyfriend. With these worrisome thoughts in mind, I noticed a male figure waiting on the long, empty pier. What a relief to find he was my sponsor’s grandson. Immediately, he led me to his home on Monterey Hill, where I spent two relaxing days with his family. On the third day, we said good-bye, and he sent me off by train to his sister’s home in Los Angeles. I found the city larger, brighter, and livelier than Monterey. I spent another night with this family, after which I began my three-day journey across the country on the Southern Pacific Railroad. Along the way, I encountered many surprises. My Daughter I was pleased to find that Michelle was growing up fast; she understood a lot and shared my enjoyment in visiting both the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Fifth Avenue, as well as the Museum of Modern Art on Fifty-third Street, which became one of our regular hangouts. One day, when we were visiting the latter museum, while standing in front of Picasso’s Man Bathing among a crowd of onlookers who noticed Michelle, we found ourselves kindly pushed to the front so she could get a better look. Michelle—shielding her eyes, arms crossed in front of her chest—was inspecting the picture closely. So I asked her what she thought of the painting. Creasing he

About the Author

I was born in New York City in 1929 of orthodox Jewish parentage; educated at Transylvania College, a Baptist school; Syracuse University and N.Y.U., where I dropped out of the Doctoral Program after the first year, through educational ennui. In 1964 I married a Japanese girl whose story you can read in her autobiography Taka’s Beads, also published by Xlibris. We have two grand children, Tatiana and Tyler, who live with their parents in Guildford, U.K.