By Barry Kawaguchi
本紙編集部で英文記事の編集をするバリー・カワグチは、米国から2001年に日本人の妻とともに来日した。米国に暮らす母から頼まれたのは、連絡が途絶えてしまった母の兄「サダオおじさん」を探すこと。手がかりは「シズオカのどこかに住んでいる」という母の遠い記憶のみ。30年ほど前に一度会ったきりのおじさんを探す旅に出かけました。
As I knelt on that zabuton in the living room of this home in Shimizu Ward, Shizuoka, I looked at the picture on the butsudan of my late Uncle Sadao, and thought sadly I had found him too late.
I dreaded having to call my mother in the United States and tell her that her oldest brother had died a few years ago.
I took a little pinch of incense, put it in the incense burner of the altar, bowed, and thought, "I have found you, Uncle, at last. Sorry, I was two years too late."
But then, I looked closer at the picture and whispered to my wife, Yumiko, "That doesn't look like him. Or even my family. I remembered him as being shorter. ..."
I thought back to 1976 when I was 13 years old and my Uncle Sadao had flown to Utah to see his mother ---- my grandmother ---- after being apart for almost 40 years. He had been sent to Japan to go to school in the late 1930s, and then, the war broke out and he never returned.
At the airport, a reporter and photographer from the local Salt Lake Tribune newspaper covered their reunion, a tearful embrace between mother and son.
That was the first and last time I had seen my Uncle Sadao.
When Yumiko and I moved to Japan in 2001, my mother asked me to try to find her eldest brother, although it seemed to be an impossible task. His brother and sisters in the States had lost touch with him years ago, and all my mother remembered was that he lived in someplace called "Shizouka."
"The prefecture or the city?" I asked her.
"Is there a difference? Just have Yumiko call the Kawaguchis in the phonebook in Shizouka," she replied.
"Is that a common name in Japan?"
Finally, one day recently, Mom remembered something else:"Shimizu."
"Is that important?" she asked me.
Still, when Yumiko and I got off the train at Shimizu Station, we didn't know where to begin. It seemed a longshot to just walk around Shimizu, stopping any good-looking person, and asking if they were a Kawaguchi and were related to me.
So, we decided to take a taxi to Miho no Matsubara, where at least I could see some of the sights in my ancestral hometown. I might have to tell Mom that I couldn't find her brother, but at least I could show her a picture of a neat old tree and blacksand beach that her parents might have visited in their youths.
We hopped into a taxi, and on the ride there, Yumiko mentioned my uncle's name to our friendly driver, who pulled over, called his dispatcher, and asked her to start calling all the Sadao Kawaguchis in the area.
She found a Sadao Kawaguchi, but his wife said her husband had died a few years ago, and invited us to stop by her house. After asking her a few questions about her husband after we had prayed, it turned out to be the wrong Kawaguchi, although he had a cousin in Utah, Ike Kawaguchi, who coincidentally, was a friend of my father's.
So, at least we were in the right place, since a lot of the Japanese who lived in the area had immigrated to Utah the same time as my father's and mother's parents, almost 100 years ago.We set out on foot, now hopeful that maybe my uncle was still alive, although he must be in his early 80s.
We walked around and other people we talked to remembered another Sadao Kawaguchi, a local character, who had once run a local movie theater in the 1950s. I remembered my Mom telling me that Uncle Sadao had called my father in the 1950s, wanting him to "invest" in his movie theater, which later went bankrupt.
"Yes, he is still alive!" everyone said.
They took us to see his ex-wife, who remembered my mom's name from the letters she used to write to him. Her son put us on the phone with my uncle, who lived across town and told us we could visit him.
At first, when I saw the elderly man, I wasn't sure if this Sadao Kawaguchi was my uncle either, although he did look like Mom. At least he was short, like my mom's side of the family. But once in his apartment, I saw a picture of my grandparents, and Sadao-san with two of my aunts. It was him!
On the happy train ride home, I couldn't wait to call my mom in the States and tell her that her oniisan was still alive and hoped to see her again someday.
I also realized why destiny had brought me to the country of my ancestral roots ---- to find a long-lost uncle for my family before it was too late.
Barry Kawaguchi
本紙記者。横浜市在住の日系３世の米国人、45歳。米・ユタ州で育ち、ジョージア、ノースカロライナ、オハイオ、テキサス州などで新聞記者・編集者として活躍した後、2001年に来日した。
- Lost (見出しから)音信が途絶えた
- As...zabuton 座布団に正座して
- late...Sadao 今は亡きサダオおじさん
- took...altar 香を少量つまみ、仏壇の香炉に入れた
- being shorter もっと背が低い
- covered...son 母と息子が涙ながらに抱き合う再会の様子を報じた
- had...him 彼と連絡が途絶えた
- longshot 望みの薄い企て
- sights 名所
- pulled over （車を）道路の片すみに寄せた
- dispatcher 配車係
- coincidentally 偶然にも
- set...foot 歩き始めた
- local character 地元の有名人
