My mom, two sisters, and I stood inside, looking out the large windows of the airport. Our dad was making his way towards an airplane that would take him far away from us for a whole month. Japan. None of us had ever been overseas. None of us had ever even flown at the time, except for the one time my dad had ridden in a small plane. And now here he was taking a trip over 6,000 miles away…
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…It was Spring of 1998. He had just started a new job at Toyota when it opened, and he was required to go to Japan for training. We girls didn’t quite know where Japan was, but we knew it was nowhere near Indiana, and we felt the weight of our dad’s absence even as we watched him board the plane. I’m not sure if it was fear of a plane crash or if I just didn’t know how to deal with being away from my dad. He turned to wave at the four of us right before he boarded the plane. Something awoke within me that day. A new awareness of emotions. That lump in my throat, and me doing everything I could to hold back the tears that were trying to escape my eyes. When I think about this memory, the feeling is the same as if it was yesterday.
After he boarded the plane, a stranger in the airport used my mom’s Pentax K1000 to take a photo of my mom and us girls standing inside the airport. The large white bird that was about to fly far away was in the background. Somehow our mom had a brave smile on her face despite her tears, as the three of us leaned on her, both physically and metaphorically. The three of us were definitely not smiling. We were all distraught, trying to understand what these emotions were, and trying to understand why we were taking a photo at a moment like this?! I’m glad for the photo now because it shows just how much our dad’s trip affected us. I was ten at the time, and my sisters were seven and two years old.
None of us had ever been away from our dad for more than a day. I suppose the furthest we had ever been away from him was when we were at school and he was at work. Or while at a slumber party at a friend or grandparent’s house. The four of us left the airport that day as co-adventurers in this strange and short season of life, which to my ten year old brain felt like it was a lifetime. A whole month?! I vividly remember the day he left and the day he returned. The only other memory that stands out between those two days was the day we got our dog Tuffy. A neighbor found a little terrier puppy who had been left on the side of our road. We took him in, and he was a real blessing especially while our dad was away. And our mom was the one to tell him via an international phone call using our landline telephone…“So, we got a dog…”
The day he flew back home we were all smiles; one month’s time had never felt so long. He had stories to share and Japanese robes and dolls for us. We loved hearing about the people he met, and the food he tried. “You ate seaweed?!” When he was back, all was right in the world again. He also had news to share. Some of the Japanese guys he had been training with and doing life with in Japan were going to be coming here to work for awhile! His recent time with those guys and their families would now be replicated here for us to be part of too, and we all were excited.
Before long, the guys were here in Indiana, and we hosted dinner for them in our home. I can still see the guys faces and hear them introducing themselves. One guy called himself Mike. One guy was called Sugar, and another guy was called Baby G. I have no idea how those nicknames came to be, but we thought their names were really cool. Two other guys were Uchi and Muchi. “Ok, but what are your full names?” we asked. Uchi sounded his name out slowly for us. “Susumu Uchida.” They made it easy for us Indiana folks by sticking with nicknames.
My dad’s new co-workers would bring gifts for us girls when they would come over for dinner. I can’t remember if we gave them gifts to take back to their kids or not, but I know we gave them Bibles printed in Japanese. I know they missed their own kids and wives back home in Japan; it was obvious in the photos and stories they shared, and the way they connected so easily with our family. Our parents would host big gatherings of friends and family, including our new Japanese friends. We’d all play wiffle ball in the backyard and have a blast jumping on the trampoline. Even as young kids, we were excited to share our lives and our stories with them too, which at the time consisted of “hey, look at this cool thing I can do,” and we’d proceed to play the piano or try to impress them with our mad hula hooping skills.
I didn’t know this until today, but I looked it up and “Toyo” means abundant or rich, and that makes me smile. Even though their homes were so far away from ours, we wanted the guys to feel like they were experiencing “home” when they were here. It’s what they did for our dad when he was there in Japan with them. “Home” isn’t just a location; it’s sharing an abundant life with the people in our lives, however brief a time. I realized we weren’t really all that different. Those dads loved and missed their kids as much as ours did. They worked hard, shared in our home-style feasts cooked by my mom, and enjoyed the exchange of culture with us. I cherish those memories; this time was an adventure from around the world in our own home. Our parents and my dad’s Japanese coworkers showed us the value of cultural connections, kindness, respect, and family. I can see this so clearly in the values that my sisters and I share today.
This spring, my dad retired from Toyota after working there for twenty eight years. I thought sharing this story would be the best way I could help him celebrate. I don’t quite have enough words to describe how thankful I am for him and all he’s done for our family over the years, not only by providing for our daily lives, but by shaping the values that are still important to us. Happy retirement, daddy ~ I love you.
Blue Moon Muse 