In December 2023, David and I met up with our dear friends, Karen and George, and visited Graceland, the home of Elvis Presley, in Memphis, Tennessee. Karen has always been a huge fan of Elvis.
From there, we drove to Panama City Beach, Florida, and stayed at their place for a week. The weather was a bit on the chilly side but, of course, much milder compared to the Midwest. It helped me understand why so many people from the northern USA visit Florida in winter. I guess I’m one of those strange people who savor the change of every season that comes my way. This could be because I’m from Tokyo where winter is relatively mild, especially compared to the Midwest. Today, I appreciate knowing that I live in a different world than the one in which I grew up. Although I do not like walking or driving on ice, I do enjoy watching snow fall from the comfort of our home.
The ocean view out of their condo unit was spectacular. From its balcony, as far as the eye could see, it was the Gulf of Mexico, the horizon, and the beautiful white-sand beach. Especially breathtaking was the sunset.
I cherish the picture of Karen and me taking a leisurely walk on the beach that David took from the sixth floor.
Karen and I first met when we both worked at GE Medical Systems in Waukesha, Wisconsin. She reminded me that it was 45 years ago. Oh, my goodness, how time flew! There are only a handful of people that have remained in my life for decades. She is one of the few, very special people.
My brother, of course, is another one. He is two years older than me. Although we were not very close when growing up, today, I look forward to our periodic video conferences. Every time there is news of a natural disaster in Japan, I worry about him. Then, typically, like magic, I find out that he is not impacted by it at all. I should stop thinking of the worst-case scenario and know that the chances are great that he remains just fine. Someone once told me that worrying does not help anyone at all; all it does is make you sick from worrying. So, when I do worry about someone, I remind myself that he or she is only a phone call/text message away.
David and I met in the summer of 1971, off military base in Yokota, Japan. That is where a small group of anti-Vietnam War students (mostly Japanese and some Americans) gathered. At the time, David was a sergeant with the U.S. Air Force. He was off duty on that day and happened to be visiting some friends there. It was a quintessential, love-at-first-site moment for both of us.
Shortly thereafter, we were ready to get married – except that the United States Air Force, for whom David had worked at the time, required a thorough investigation of my background. We were forewarned that it could take “awhile.” Perhaps thanks to the fact that I was working for Newsweek Tokyo Bureau – an American organization – at the time, however, permission to marry came much faster than expected. We got engaged on Christmas Eve, 1971; and got married in February 1972. So, yes, we’ll be celebrating our 52nd wedding anniversary shortly.
David and I always treasured a picture of him making sure that I was safe, standing in a shallow stream at Mt. Mitake. It was a casual snapshot, taken by our friend, Sheldon Stein. Like David, Shel, too, was stationed in Yokota, Japan. During the 2008 fire of our residence in Bloomfield Township, our favorite picture was destroyed, unfortunately. Thankfully, I still have a vivid memory of the photo, frozen in time from when we were both 22 years old. Several years later, roughly around 1977, when our boys were quite young, we met up with Shel to enjoy an outdoor lobster meal in Maine. Thereafter, we lost touch. It would be nice if we could be reunited with him someday.
From Day 1 of our encounter in the summer of 1971, David has been an absolute angel throughout all my adult life. Especially because of my rough childhood, a chance meeting him was the best thing that ever happened to me. I often think that he was sent to me from heaven, on a special mission to help heal my wounded soul. And he has done a superb job of it, better than anyone else could have possibly accomplished.
Thanks a million, my love!
