March 28, 2026 – Part 2
We returned to our room and got ready to catch the train to Takarazuka,
where we had lived while we were in Japan.
Coming down in the elevator, a family got on. They had two
boys. The younger one was dressed as Mario in blue overalls, red shirt, and big
red Mario hat. The older boy was dressed as Harry Potter, complete with the
robe, Gryffindor scarf, and round, black-rimmed glasses. He looked enough like
the character to have played him. Yes, seeing their excitement reminded us why
we spent close to three years building the park.
Our plan for the first day was to see our dear friend and
neighbor, Misayo Igo, her daughter, Kazue, and her boyfriend, Takehiro
Shigematsu.
We met Misayo-san and her husband, Akira, on the day in 1998
when we first looked at our mansion and decided it would be our home.
(Those who have read our book, 31
Months in Japan: The Building of a Theme Park, will be familiar with
her.) They owned a restaurant called Burger City just down the hill from our
building. We were on our way to the airport to go home, and we needed to eat
lunch. So, we stopped there.
Our relocation coordinator, Teri, told them we would be
living in the building up the hill.
Misayo declared we would be friends. She wanted to learn
English, and I wanted to learn Japanese. While we lived there, I spent quite a
bit of time in the shop. I had my English-Japanese dictionary, and she had her
Japanese-English one. But we didn’t rely on them. She used to describe it as
communicating “heart to heart.” (Google Translate used the word “telepathy.”) We
made lots of mistakes and laughed a great deal, but it made little difference.
She was right. We did become good friends.
As soon as we knew we would be in Japan again, I contacted
her. (Kazue is our translator.) Misayo always wants to set a date immediately
for us to come for lunch.
So, this would be our first excursion on this visit.
We bought our train tickets and took the familiar route from
the park to Takarazuka on three different trains. Fortunately, we had gone this
way many times. However, some of the landmarks had changed. Only a few
remained.
We got off at the JR Takarazuka Station—a
new one since we lived there. We’d seen it two years ago and were amazed at the
transformation.
As pre-arranged, Takehiro and Kazue picked us up in his car
and drove us to the Igos’ condo. (We could have taken the bus, but they
offered, so we agreed.) They live in the building right below ours, and we’d
visited them often. We “shared” holidays with them. They joined us for the U.S.
ones, and we joined them for the Japanese ones.
We entered, and Kazue called out to let her mother know we
had arrived. She bustled out of the kitchen, ran to me with her arms open wide,
and we hugged. It was as if no time had passed. We were once again best
friends, and we were together.
Kazue had said we would go to a noodle shop for lunch
because Misayo had prepared everything for shabushabu for dinner.
Obviously, she wanted us to spend the entire day, and we were all for it!
We gave them the gifts we had brought. I had found a special
scarf at Mission San Juan Capistrano. It had the swallows on it. We also gave
them a copy of our book, Jewel
of the Missions: San Juan Capistrano, because it is illustrated with
beautiful paintings showing the mission.
They were delighted with these as well as the candle and
Trader Joe’s bag.
She brought us a cup of tea, and we reminisced about all the
good memories we had shared. I recalled going to Burger City and said how sad I
was that it was gone. I also mentioned that her udon noodles were still
my very favorite in the world. Next thing we knew, she had jumped up and
started cooking them! Most udon noodles are cooked in fish broth. I
don’t care for fish. She made hers in a vegetable broth, and they tasted fresh
and really yummy!
So, instead of going to a noodle shop, we had Misayo’s udon
right there.
I asked Kazue about her health. She had written that she’d
had cancer, but that she was doing okay. Two years earlier, she had been
diagnosed with uterine cancer. She had gone through chemotherapy and surgery.
Her follow-up scans had been free of cancer cells. However, not long ago, her
scan showed the cancer had returned. She was now doing two hours of
chemotherapy three times a week. She said it drained her energy.
One of my dearest friends, Pat, had gone through something
similar. But now, after the recurrence, she was doing well, and all signs of
the cancer were gone again. No permanent guarantees, but she is busy living her
best life. We talked about “chemo brain,” and I told her Pat said it was real.
She didn’t realize it until she was through with her own chemo and could feel
how much better she was able to think. I hoped hearing about someone else who
had been through something similar would encourage her. I offered to put her in
touch with Pat in case she had any questions.
They had met Pat’s daughter when she visited Japan. Our
daughter, Kim, had come over with Tracy (our goddaughter) when she was
fourteen. She and Kim had a great time. Kim had come the year before with my
mother, and she had learned how to get around on the trains. On this second
trip, she was fearless!
I told them that Tracy was getting married, and they were
very excited for her.
After a while, Misayo suggested we drive around our old
neighborhood, so we did.
Our building looks pretty much the same, but another
building has been built on the other side of our parking structure. A big
building now stands farther up the hill. And yet another new building is being
built beyond the new one next to ours. The area is growing.
Many familiar places are gone, replaced by newer and more
modern structures. The little strip mall and the post office remain, but most
of the stores have changed. The Co-op where we shopped is still there.
We went on to Kiyoshikojin
Seichoji Temple, the local shrine, where we had gone often.
The Saturday before we left for Japan, our church (Community Presbyterian of San Juan Capistrano)
had a one-day women’s retreat. We had just installed a gorgeous labyrinth, and
the retreat focused on it. We were given quite a few options on how we wanted
to approach it, and the event ended with each of us walking the labyrinth. I
had been very moved by the experience.
Being back at the temple gave me the same peaceful feeling
I’d had after walking the labyrinth.
As we entered, it looked much like it had the first time
we’d gone when we took my mother. Just like that time, the sakura
(cherry blossoms) were in bloom. I looked at the same beautiful tree under
which Mom had sat in her wheelchair, and the memory was very sweet. (We had
borrowed the chair to make it easier for her to go some of the places we wanted
her to see. This was one of them.)
We went up the hill to the main shrine, where we washed our
hands and purified our mouths using the long-handled bamboo cups. Then we
approached the shrine itself and threw a coin as an offering. We bowed twice,
clapped twice, and bowed once again. Then we prayed silently. Mine was for
healing for Kazue.
This temple has several shrines, so we went on to a few others
and stopped to pray at each one.
Along the way, Kazue, Misayo, and I cast sticks for our
luck. We received them on a slip of paper. I got the best one as did Misayo.
All of our prayers and wishes would come true. Kazue’s was a bit different. She
would get her desires, but they would take some time. I remembered what Larry
had felt when Pat asked him to pray about her cancer. He said he felt she would
fully recover, but it would take time, and it would be a hard journey. It’s
exactly what happened. This felt like an echo of that moment.
At one place along the way, there was sand piled around a
tree. It stood in in a sort of wrought iron cage. We were told if you uncovered
five coins buried in the sand with the long stick provided, you would have good
luck. You were to take them home, and when your wish was granted, you returned
them back to the sand to bless someone else.
Larry found three immediately, but he didn't want to take
them with him, since he would not be there to return them. However, Misayo-san
uncovered one and gave it to him for good luck. He put it in his pocket.
A few of the altars (shrines?) were up lots of stairs (very
Japanese!), and I declined to climb them. (My knees were doing very well, but I
didn’t want to press my luck. I had gotten shots in my bad knee not long before
we left home.) So, we walked around the grounds on the level area and waited
for the others.
I had amazing moments of pure Zen while taking in the peace
and beauty of the place. The sound of a gentle stream running downhill. The
breeze blowing through the trees. The glimpse of a small but perfect garden
through an open gate. Every glance held a photo opportunity, which I simply
enjoyed without having to capture it. I knew they were etched in my memory.
We sat in the shade while the other three finished making
all the rounds. Then we started to leave.
But Larry suddenly went back to the last shrine. We watched
him toss his coin of offering, bow, clap, and bow his head.
I turned to Kazue. "He is saying a prayer for
you." I don’t know how I knew, but I was sure.
When we got back home to California, I finally asked him
about it. He said he just knew that was where his "lucky coin" from
Misayo was supposed to be because the luck only works when you give it away. He
loves this family as much as I do.
On the way back, we stopped at the Hankyu Takarazuka station
for something to drink. It was still filled with shops of all kinds. I
remembered taking my mother to a little English tea house there, but I thought
it was long gone. However, it was still there after all these years.
There were quite a few people waiting, so Kazue suggested
going to the new Takarazuka Hotel.
It is beautiful, very elegant, and brand new. Just off the
lobby is a small dining area, where we found a table. I ordered a diet coke,
and Misayo ordered a regular one. Larry, Kazue, and Takehiro ordered the sweet
“set.” (This is what combos are called in Japan.) They each selected a dessert
and coffee or tea.
Afternoon treat at the Hotel
Takarazuka
Misayo, Larry, me, Kazue, Takehiro
We went back to their house and continued our reminiscences.
Just as when we had gone there with my mother and Kim years
before, Misayo’s sakura tree was in bloom. We were assigned seats so
that we could see the tree. Then Misayo brought over photos of her mother (whom
I adored) and Akira. Both had passed away since we lived there, but she wanted
them to share in our party.
She brought out the shabushabu pot and plugged it in.
(Like sukiyaki, shabushabu is cooked at the table. Sukiyaki
is cooked in a combination of shoyu or soy sauce, sake, and a little
sugar. Shabushabu is cooked in water. Both include meat and lots of
veggies.) Then she brought out platter after platter of food to be cooked.
Both are lovely ways to enjoy a meal. We each cooked our own
food and truly enjoyed it. And all the time, we talked and laughed and
remembered the good times we had shared.
Afterward, as she had each time we shared a meal at their
house, Kazue sat down at her grand piano and played for us while we enjoyed the
beauty of the tree outside of the window.
She played a Bach piece she said reminded her of the journey
she was on. Afterward, I told her I could hear the tumult followed by slower,
gentler sounds of rest and recovery. I understood why it spoke to her.
Then she played a lovely Dvořák piece. And she finished, as she had started on the evening we
shared with Mom and Kim, with a “Fantasia on Sakura.” Toshi and Kae had also
been with us that night, and this experience echoed that long ago evening. Now
Kae was gone, but we would see Toshi in a couple of days when he joined us in
Osaka.
All too soon, it was time for us to leave. Takehiro said he
would drive us back to our hotel. We could have taken the train, but he
insisted. Kazue came with us. They went out to bring the car to the door. Larry
and I put on our shoes, and he went out to wait for the younger folks.
Misayo and I were left inside.
We hugged tightly, and she began to sob. I wept as well and
held her close. I felt her sadness was more than just for our parting once
again. I’d watched her being brave and confident for Kazue, but in that moment,
being held by a friend, she was willing to let her anxiety show. Our embrace
lasted a long while.
When we finally parted, I told her I loved her, and she said
the same, although the words really weren’t necessary. Once more, our hearts
connected in the same way they always have.
Just like when we left Japan for the last time as we
returned home, Misayo did not want to go with us to the hotel. So, we said our
farewells there.
Takehiro drove us right to the hotel, and we hugged Kazue
and him goodbye.
It was a day full to the brim with blessings yet
heartbreaking at the same time. It has taken me some time to process it, and
I’m sure it will stay with me for a long while.
