A recollection in a snowy day.

Looking at the snow covering everything around here, I was recalling of the day when my mother and the newborn brother came home. He was born at a gyn clinic in the city area several kilometers east of our home. Our home was in a sanatorium for tuberculosis patients in woods far away from the residential area. I have already written about the sanatorium managed by our aunt in the past post here. Our father and mother were working as a housekeeper and a nurse there, respectively. They were not rich enough to own a car those days. It was a cart for farming pulled by my father that my mother and brother were taken back home on.

                                         Our parents used to live in the right house. The left
                                         is a storage house. The tree in front of that house is
                                         a magnolia which may bloom in March.                                       

It was an overcast day. The sky was covered by lead colored cloud. It was a chilly and, in a sense, bleak day. The field was carpetted by snow all over. How could my father know where the road leading to home was? It looked like a lost road in the snow. He was pulling the cart quietly. I was only 4 years of age. Nevertheless, I was walking behind them with a hand on the cart, I believe. I felt proud of walking by myself even though I might ride on the cart on the way later. It was a merry and happy march back toward home for me in my young days.

My parents were in their thirties. It had been several years since the end of WWII when my father was compelled to serve in the army. He has spent hard time as a soldier in China for a few years. He has always regretted about what the japanese army including himself has done against the chinese people during the war. Coming back homeland, he has married with my mother. They have had a small cottage for the honey moon home in the sanatorium. They were working very hard, I know. They must be devoted to living itself as well as to raising their three children. It was the days when they had started raising own family.

I might idealize this memory too much. A very poor family. My parents were losing their work in a year or two from my borther's birth since our aunt was closing the facility. No way to raise kids at that time. Our parents have made an exodus to Tokyo soon. I should have asked them what they would do or what they could do at that time. Strangely, there was no mood of desparation or of helplessness in the family. They were positive and hopeful for the future. One reason was that they both firmly believed in Christianity and it has given them a belief that a road should be ready for us in the future wherever we might be. Our country was starting the rapid growth in economy and social system after the devastating years of WWII. That must has made the people including my parents hopeful for the future. Anyway, despite of the very poor circumstances with me, I have spent happy days under my parents. I could not forget a feeling that I was cared for affectionately.

I could not help remembering of those days with a yearning as well as a sense of bitterness. I feel as if I were asked if I have lived for my family in the same way as my parents used to. Three of us have been working in medical care as doctors and a nurse. It is not thanks to ourselves but to our parents. At my age much older than my parents those days, no use to reflect on myself about how I have lived. All I should do is only to thank my parents for their love to us.


  1. I have written these words to you before, but your story of the birth of your brother and the struggles of your family continue to remind me of the greatness of the individuals that lived during the generation of your parents and mine. Those were human beings, not different that you, me or others around us, yet they gave willingly of themselves and expected nothing in return. Candidly, I am quite ashamed of what our world has transitioned to. A generation, and unfortunately the future generations, built on the expectation that they are not responsible for neither themselves nor those around them. Today, it is "what can you do for me, because you owe it to me".

    I apologize for using your blog to convey my feelings. It is not the intent of your blog. You will probably ban me from future use. But, your story brought out my pride. A pride that I have for your parents, for my parents and those that lived during those times. I am happy to have lived when I did and will not see much more of the future and the decline of a wonderful human trait.

    1. Don,

      I share the feeling for the past with you. There are good old days in our memory. We could never return there. On the other hand, as they say the history is a conversation between the past and the present, I feel like being asked by the past. If I have lived as I should or not. I wonder if I have delivered all the affection from my parents and others toward me to the next generation. It is not an easy question for me to answer. Maybe, useless to consider of that. But it still urges me to think of that. Maybe, with heartfelt thanks to parents, I would go on asking myself about that in the rest of my life. Let's hope this insight into ourselves may make us more open minded and kind to family and the others surrounding us. I often feel I am conversing with the past in this way.

      Your comment would be appreciated any time.


  2. My parents were European Jews that fled Germany for Palestiine, where I was born, in the nineteen thirties. It was the second major upheaval for my father who escaped from Russia with his brother during the Revolution as tteenagers. My parents later emigrated again to the U.S.A. to protect our little family. They imparted that same positive and safe sense to me and my sister that you mention as they worked hard and endured hardships in strange places. I wonder if I could every do the same,. They inspired me with a sense of family and responsibility that I am happy to say is now evidenced by our children. I owe my parents everything. That was indeed an exceptional generation the world over.

    1. Thanks for the comment. It must have been a real story that you and youre parents experienced in immigrating from Plalestine to the US. The revolution and the subsequent events in Europe could not help influencing on all of you so much. The 20th century was really an age of wars. Our parent generation has got through that hard time. We owe much to them in fact.

      Would you leave your name in full or your call sign if you are a ham?

      Thanks again for the comment.