Anonymous
To my anchan (big brother), I was a just a young squirt of a sister, after all, when he was a senior in high school, I was a mere 7th grader. We did not converse much, but when it came to guava picking, swimming in the stream way in the mountains above our home, and building mud forts in the newly harvested cane fields near our house, it didn't matter whether we were ages apart. We had fun. He was so good at building toys from scrap lumber, especially cranes that actually grabbed grass when one pulled on the strings. My grandfather and he would make the best kites--using thin paper, bamboo, and yards and yards of string because the created kites would fly so high--it would look like just a pin point in the sky. As adults, I trusted his judgement with plants. He got so good at naming and using his artistic eye to landscape. His siblings all enjoyed his assistance in landscaping our newly bought homes. He spoke proudly of landscaping projects that he had done, too, and of how he needed to convince a home owner to "at least water the plants." Each year, he took the time out during his busy schedule to make kadomatsu for us for New Year, picking the pine and bamboo by himself and delivering them to our homes. When someone got married or celebrated their yakudoshi, he would painstakingly make a fish center piece with all of the good luck nuances--the bamboo, the pine, the turtle--all symbolizing good luck. I marveled at the artistry he used in making the turtle and flowers out of died daikon (turnip), carrots, and other edible items. Nothing was artificial. Anchan cherished his relationship with our obaban and ojinchan (paternal grandparents) who lived with us. He also cherished the culture and traditions of our Japanese heritage. He had dreamed of going to Japan to stay for a full month while I was there teaching. Anchan, I appreciated your sensitivity to others' issues. Even though you may have had your burdens, you knew when to comfort someone. It was almost as though I didn't want to tell you anything because you would carry the burden for me. Anchan, thank you for helping us--me, my sons, & Tommy--we will all miss you. I will cherish the plants you put in my garden, each carefully laid rock, the cement garden you made so that I could raise some vegetables; but, most of all, I will miss my anchan--you taught me so much about life--to respect our heritage and family traditions; and to love our surroundings. Be at peace!##imported-begin##Ellen Hideko Tanoura##imported-end##