Akari Ueoka

  

Photo by Jackson David on Unsplash

A few days ago, my mom gave me a call. She said there was no particular reason for the call. "I just wanted to say hi," she said. It was good timing, so we spoke for about half an hour.

We talked about various subjects, and at one point, somehow, we stumbled upon a topic, "Talking to strangers." We agreed that neither of us is afraid of talking to strangers, although I am an introvert and love spending time alone.

From my parents, especially my mother, I learned to trust in people's goodness, regardless of their appearance or social status. 

When I was about four years old, I remember seeing a man with a noticeable scar on his face at the supermarket where my mom and I regularly shopped. We didn’t see him every time, but we saw him sometimes. He was probably in his 50s or 60s at that time, and he was always by himself. He would say hi, and we said hi back to him. I remember my mom carrying on casual conversations with him. I did not see other people talking to him. Whenever he said hi to us, my mom did not look bothered or scared. Sometimes, he tried to buy me ice cream, and my mom often politely turned down the offer, but occasionally, I got ice cream, and I remember thanking him and eating it in front of the store before it melted. I remember seeing his eyes were squinting and he looked happy seeing me eat the ice cream. 

In high school, I had eating an disorder and crowd phobia, and I barely managed to go to school. But I was able to go to the Suga Jazz Dance Studio to take dance classes every night. When I danced, I could breathe deeply.

My family lived in an apartment then, located in the central part of the city. This was because my father, an engineer, needed to get to the office immediately during an emergency. Since it was in the middle of a town, it happened to be in a red-light district (but a safe area). 

I used to ride my bicycle to the dance studio. A few hundred yards from my house stood one of the high-end-looking businesses on the edge of the red-light district. I liked that this business didn’t have any obnoxious flickering neon signs. There was always a man in a suit standing in front of the closed door to greet their guests. There were two or three men, and they took turns standing outside. 

I knew what the shop was for, but I didn’t want to ignore the doorman's presence. I gave them a quick bow whenever I passed by, and they lifted their chins toward me or raised their hands as if to say, "Hi." Eventually, our nightly recognition turned into verbal greetings, like "Good evening" (on the way to a class) and them responding, "Be careful (meaning - of the traffic)." When I came home, I said, "Good night," and they replied, "Good night."

I never stopped to talk to them, but we exchanged the pleasantries that my bicycle speed allowed for. They eventually knew I was going to a dance class and practicing for Yosakoi, an annual dance festival of my hometown in which the whole town dances. Sometimes, their greetings had variations: "Good luck tomorrow!” for the night before the festival or "Oh good, you're back safely" when I came home later than usual, and so on. 

We didn’t know each other's names; none of us tried to find out. I didn’t know how they ended up doing that job, or why they would take the time to greet me. 

But in the lonely world of torturing myself with food and the scale, they became my night watchers and provided a ray of moonlight into my dark, cold heart as if to say, "We see you."

One evening, my mom and I happened to go out together on bicycles. When we passed in front of the business, we both greeted the doorman. He looked at us and laughed as if to say, "Ah, you two are related! Makes sense!" 

My mom and I also looked at each other and said, "You've been greeting them, too?" Then we laughed. At the same time, I was impressed by my mom once again for being their regular greeter.

Also, no one was standing there during the daytime, so sometimes, I wondered if they really existed. I was happy to know that my mom knew of these souls that appeared nightly, too.

These are only two examples, but I have many more episodes of my mother making friends with strangers, including "outsiders" with whom other people did not seem to want to be associated. 

From my mother, I learned to look into the "luminous place" flowing deeply within each of us and to meet people in that place. 

Also from my mother, I learned that the world can be a scary place sometimes, but it's worth believing in and showing up.

Sports Day (elementary school) 小学校の運動会

This morning, my dad emailed me a link to view 426 photos he kindly scanned and uploaded from my childhood (elementary, middle school, and high school years). As I fondly looked at each one, countless memories surfaced like spring water, and when I looked up for a second, I was not sure where I was.

I reminded myself, "I became an adult and am living on the island of Maui." I felt like my childhood was a lifetime ago. Then I used a bathroom; I saw myself in the mirror and felt a fascinating, foreign feeling. I thought to myself, "That girl became this person now," as if I was looking at a neighbor's kid.

Sports Day (middle school) 中学校の運動会

After a school event, with classmates (middle school) 中学校の何かの学校行事の後でクラスメイトと

With my rhythmic gymnastics teammates (high school) 高校の新体操部のみんなと

With one of my best friends, Ekko (high school) 高校時代の親友のひとり、えっこと

76 years ago, today, my grandma's town was under an air raid attack by US B-29s.

One time, I asked her what it was like, and she shared the story below.

At that time, my grandma and my grandpa were living in Dogo town in Matsuyama, Ehime, not in the mountains where she spent most of her life as a farmer. My grandpa, was not drafted into the war since he was the first son. They had a two-year-old daughter, and my grandma was pregnant with their second child.

Whenever a siren roared, the people of Matsuyama evacuated to dugouts. Matsuyama was bombed 16 times between March 1945 and August 1945, according to a historical document listed on the Ehime Shinbun Co., Ltd.

My grandma could not run fast due to her heavy body, so her neighbor, who is in her late teens, always came to grab the two-year-old daughter, my aunt named Sachiko. My grandma said that it was very helpful and appreciated. I imagine what a scary experience it must have been for anyone but especially for young children – the roaring sirens, bombs falling on their heads, and a dark, hot, dusty dugout.

On July 26, 1945, they heard the siren at 11:30 pm; they ran to the dugout. That night, my grandma was near the entrance of the dugout since she was one of the last ones to get inside. She peeked outside for a second and saw an airplane approaching. She closed the door, and then there was an earsplitting noise. Later, when it seemed safe enough to come out, people who hid there found an unexploded bomb next to the dugout. If it had exploded, the small dugout would have probably been blown up, and I would not have been here in this way. The Japanese army came to retrieve the bomb.

According to the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications, the B-29s dropped 896 tons of incendiary on that night. Survivors described it as a rain of irons and fire. People's effort to put it out was nothing against the massive fire that burned 90% of the city. 14,300 houses were burned, and 251 people died.

The scale of the damage was much smaller than the Bombing of Tokyo, which took place four months before the Matsuyama bombing. It killed approximately 105,400 people and burned more than 70,000 homes. However, regardless of the size of the attack, the fear each individual experienced in both cities must have been tremendous. The night sky of Matsuyama-city my grandma saw from Dogo town was lit up red.

Tokyo, Japan, in ruins after B-29 incendiary attacks during World War 2. The image is from Everett Collection at ShutterStock.com (I paid to download). All rights reserved. 全ての写真は、ShutterStock.comのEverett Collectionにて購入いたしました。ブログやSNSに掲載する許可はもらいましたが、これらの写真を許可なく転載、複製などに利用することはできません。

A couple of blog entries ago, I wrote about pretending to call my grandma who passed away. 二つ前のブログで、亡くなったおばあちゃんに、出ないことを承知で電話をしたことを書きました。 

With my friend, April 友人のエイプリルと

Signing several official papers 何枚もの書類にサインをしているところ

Each time I visited (with or without appointments), Dayne, my sales representative, did not show me a slight annoyance of "Oh, her again," and patiently answered all my questions. He said, "It's a big purchase, so it's good you're asking these questions." He was very responsive via emails and text messages as well. With all of my questions and concerns answered and addressed, I've made up my mind to get a Crosstrek.

At my fourth visit, Dayne asked me, "Now you know what model you want. What about color?"

"Color? I've been so busy deciding a model; I haven't thought about it. What are the options?"

He showed me a computer screen, and then he pointed at a car that was sitting outside the dealership, waiting to be picked up by a new owner. It was called gray khaki, but it looked like baby blue. I fell in love with it. I knew that it was the color I wanted.

Two weeks later, my car was there all the way from Japan. The day I drove my dream car home happened to be Christmas Eve of 2020. My neighbor saw my car and said, "You must have been really good this year!"

I named it "Blue Bird." When I went to the dealership to pick up Blue Bird, I traded in my old car, a 1999 Honda CR-V named Silver-lining (which did not have much value, but I did not feel comfortable selling to anyone for safety reason).

She and I were together for the past 13 years, allowing me to go places and make memories. It took me to work every day. We went camping. We went everywhere on Maui.

When I went through a sudden, painful divorce from 2011 to 2012, Silver-lining literally held a space for me. I used to drive it out to a neighborhood church cemetery at night, park next to it, and cry my heart out. I had my privacy there and did not have to think about troubling my neighbors with my crying voice. Silver-lining has witnessed me going through the darkest hours of my life; therefore, I had quite a sentiment toward the car. My heart was full of appreciation, and I had difficulty saying goodbye to it. It was my longtime friend.

I cried to let it go. 泣いてありがとう、さようなら。

20年間の自動車生活の中で、私は初めて新車を購入しました。

私は以前からスバルのクロストレック、アウトバック、フォレスターが好きでした。過去15年ほど、いつかはそれらの車に乗れたらいいなぁと思っていました。AWD（All Wheel Drive）（全輪駆動車）であることと、車高が高いからです。マウイ島の東側にあるハナという地域の、舗装されていない急勾配なドライブウェイは、以前の車では雨が降ると上ることができませんでしたが、クロストレックは問題なしです。

私は過去20年間4台の車に乗りましたが、いつも4,800ドル（約48万円）以下の中古車を購入していました。（1台目は$500、2台目は$2,000、3台目はいただいた1986年製のベンツ。大好きだったけど壊れてしまった。4台目が$4,800だった。）しかし、今回は新しい車を買うことにしました。というのも、私の古い車（20万マイル近く走った）は故障が続き、2度も道の真ん中で止まってしまったのです。家まで牽引してもらって修理し続けるのにほとほと疲れました。整備士の方と一緒に売りに出ている中古車（スバル車ではない）もいくつか見ましたが、「これだ！」と思える車に出会えませんでした。しかも、スバルの中古車は新車と同じくらいの値段でした。

My old car's maintenance/repair receipts (I had up to 2008) 古い車の修理やメインテナンスの領収書 （2008年に購入したので、それからずっと持ってました）

私は初めて、自分が車の最初のオーナーになることを考えました。今までで一番高い買い物になるわけですから、かなり緊張しました。車のモデルや金融・ローンのことなど、細かいところまで知りたいと思いました。そこで、私は徹底的に下調べをしました。 知識と比較のために、スバル以外のディーラーにも足を運びました（他のメーカーも真剣に検討しました）。そして「よし！」と決めるまで、マウイ島にある唯一のスバルのディーラーに4回足を運びました。

私を担当してくれた、営業担当のDayneさんは、訪問する度に（アポイントの有無にかかわらず）、「ああ、また彼女か」というような苛立ちを微塵とも見せることなく、私の質問に根気よく答えてくれました。彼は、「大きな買い物なのだから、あかりのように色々と質問をするのは大切なことだよ 。」と言ってくれました。また、メールやテキストメッセージでの対応も非常に良かったです。私の質問や懸念にすべて答えてくれたので、私はスバルのクロストレックを購入することにしました。

4回目の来店時、Dayneは私にこう尋ねました。「これで欲しい車種が決まったね。色は何色にしますか。」

「色？今まで車種を絞ることに集中していて考えたことがありません。どんな選択肢があるのですか。」と尋ね返しました。

彼は私にコンピューターの画面を見せ、全ての選択肢を教えてくれました。それから店の外にあった、新しいオーナーが取りに来るのを待っているクロストレックを指差しました。その色の名前は「グレーカーキ」でしたが、カーキ色には見えないきれいな青空色でした。私はその色に一目惚れしました。「この色がいい！」と思いました。

2週間後、私の車は遙々日本からやってきました。夢の車を家に持ち帰った日は、たまたま2020年のクリスマスイブでした。近所の人が私の車を見て、「あかりは、今年本当に『良い子』だったのね！」と言ったので、二人で笑いました。（アメリカでは「良い子にしていないとサンタさんからのプレゼントがないよ」と子ども達に言うことがあるので。）

私はクロストレックを 「ブルーバード」と名付けました。ブルーバードを引き取りにディーラーに行ったとき、以前乗っていた1999年式のホンダCR-Vを下取りに出しました。それは「シルバーライニング 」と名付けていました。（「希望の兆し」という意味です。）（車自体に価値はほぼありませんでしたが、個人売買で売るには安全面で人様に売る気持ちになれませんでしたし、下取りで引き取ってくれるというので、例え少額でもそうしてもらいました。）

彼女と私は過去13年間一緒で、私を毎日の仕事や、キャンプや、マウイ島の色々なところに連れて行ってくれました。

2011年から2012年にかけて突然の辛い離婚を経験したとき、シルバーライニングは言葉通り私の居場所を作ってくれました。時々泣きたくなったときは、夜、近所の教会の墓地に車を走らせ、その横に駐車して、思いっきり泣いたものです。そこでは自分のプライバシーが守られ、泣き声で近所の人を心配させることもありませんでした。

シルバーライニングは、私の人生の最も暗い時期を見守ってくれたので、彼女に対してかなりの思い入れがありました。感謝の気持ちで胸がいっぱいになり、なかなか別れられませんでした。

ブルーバードを納車し、ディーラーショップを出ようとしたとき、私はDayneに「最後にシルバーライニングに挨拶しに行ってもいいですか。」と聞きました。彼はまたしても私を奇異の目で見ることなく、「もちろん、行っておいで。それが良い。」と言ってくれました。

私はシルバーライニングが停まっているところまで行き、そのボディに手のひらを当て、「この13年間、私を安全にいろいろなところへ連れて行ってくれて、ありがとうございました。私に泣く場所を作ってくれて、ありがとうございました。今までほんとうに頑張ってくれたねぇ。一緒に過ごした思い出を大切にしするね。」そう話しかけながら、また涙が溢れてきました。

その後ブルーバードに戻り、乗り込んでエンジンをかけると、Dayneは私が駐車場を出るまで見送ってくれました。

親友のエイプリルにも感謝しています。彼女は、私が正式な書類にサインする際に、何か質問があったときのため、ディーラーショップに一緒に来てくれました。彼女は私よりも数年前にクロストレックを購入していたので、彼女がクロストレック手に入れたことも私のインスピレーションになりました。この投稿に使っている写真は、彼女が撮ってくれたものです。長年の友人であったシルバーライニングに別れを告げ、新しい友人となるブルーバードに挨拶する瞬間を見届けてくれる友人がいてくれて良かったです。エイプリル、ありがとう！

車という名の色々なところへ連れて行ってくれる道具を大切にしていきたいと思います。ブルーバードと新しい思い出を作るのが楽しみです。

The day after my grandma's funeral (it was held on June 10, 2020; I attended virtually), I felt like calling my grandma's landline, knowing that she would not answer.

I just wanted to pretend to call her. Also, I knew that her landline would be canceled, so I wanted to call the number one last time. I listened to the same, usual ringing tone, thinking she would have answered the phone only a few days ago. 
You can listen to this article's podcast episode at the following link. The episode number is #3.

• 祖母の愛に見合えますように
• あの世からの折り返し電話
• 松山空襲

この記事のポッドキャストは以下のリンクよりお聞きになれます。エピソード番号は#３です。

Two students who have been studying with me for the past 4, 5 years started wishing, "Someday, we'd like to have our costumes." We felt that the time has ripened to get one. It means a lot to have your own dance attire. One is that it means that a dancer has worked hard to the point and that she/he is committing her/himself to further learning.

You can listen to this article's podcast episode at the following link. The episode number is #2.

I started my blog back in 2006.