Chapter 3

A quick stop in Tokyo at the Embassy, and we were official. I had heard very few kind words during this trial by fire. This happened in November 1962, and not much changed until our son was born, in February 1963. The two sisters were there with bells on, as they had been in the past. (There were 3 brothers, then 3 sisters with Gus, like me, being the baby). One day the Sister-in-Law that was nice to me, Moto, showed up on our doorstep.

She asked permission for her and the middle brother, Bunji, to visit with our son. Understand, he was the first male of his generation, and by pre-WWII laws, he would be the inheritor of all the family owned. He would have to assume the Family name, rather than Mine, but he was the king honcho.

I don't think I have ever met a kinder, sweeter, person than Moto, unless it was Kyoko, the middle sister. She was several years older than Bunji, and they could not have children. Moto became my friend for life, and Bunji grudgingly came around to the Gaijin (foreigner) defiler of his favorite baby sister. Our son was the catalyst in Japan, as he was in Georgia. My sweet Mother-in-Law visited with us, and we became very close. Before we left Japan, a year had passed since my Father-in-Law's death. This is a really big occasion, as this is when the spirit finally goes to rest. It is a time of feasts, and jubilation. I took two weeks leave, and we visited at the home farm the whole time. Kikuo, the oldest brother, and keeper of the Mother, and I became fast friends. The farm, about 5 acres, was much bigger than most. Evidently, before WWII, the Family was pretty influential. MacArthur's tax reforms changed all this.

I got to meet the whole family, Aunts, Uncles, Greats, etc. By now, Gus and I could do no wrong. We Had A Son!

I'll never forget our flight home. Mother-in-Law, Big Brothers, Both Sisters, all the Nieces, even some Uncles and Aunts saw us off. Not the first one begged me to take care of Gus, as they knew that was a given. They loved, and trusted me completely. Even though we divorced, after 21 years, that trust and faith was never broken.

After a grueling flight, through an Alaskan Airport that had been badly damaged by the 1964 earthquake, we finally debarked from a commuter plane in Albany. Waiting for me and my 4-month pregnant wife was my brother, my Mother, and, my nephew that was just-born when I left for Japan. He was eager to meet his "Jackanese Cousin". I carried my son off the plane, and he was as exhausted as any of us after flying East and crossing the IDL. When Mama rushed up to us, he just reached out for her. Granny-Grandson bonded instantly. My nephew and my son were giggling together before we left the parking lot. My brother told me I had better quit talking like a Yankee.

My family, extended family, and the Irwinville Community accepted Gus and our children unconditionally. Fact of the matter, many local farm boys daydreamed about summers when our daughters would visit Granny.

Gus stayed with my parents, in Irwinville, during my last year in the Navy. Our oldest daughter was born in Tifton, and was 9 months old before I got to see her. Our youngest daughter was conceived in the house where I now live. Even after the divorce, Gus was just as much a part of the total family as I was. After initial grievances, we became friends, and just accepted our differences. She did get to go back and visit in Japan, as did I. Her brother Bunji is considered as one of Japan's "National Treasures" for his work in silk painting. Moto, his wife, has passed away. He travels to far places to display his work, and everything he creates belongs to Japan. Except for one bootlegged painting of a Rose, now in my proud possession, to be passed to my granddaughter.

Gus died of Bone Cancer June 1999. Ne-chan, her husband and two children and grand-children live in the Tampa Bay area. Both my daughters have travel to Japan, and love it and the culture as I do. Kiyoko married a Doctor, who loves to sing karaoke, and they have two daughters. Bunji travels very little, and misses Moto.

I miss Gus.