I hate to admit it but I have to: I'm "corny" (Nowadays, people say, "cheesy." I grew up in the 70s, so "corny" still strikes home more!). In
fact, I actually love 'corny'. That's perhaps due to the existence of a hopeless
romantic in me. I like to be showy in my affection, especially to my wife and
daughter. I don't cringe when I say, "I love you" to them. In fact,
except for some hesitation in the beginning, in our little family, "I love
you" has become the most natural thing to say.
Japanese Sobriety
How'd I become so corny? I'm not really sure. It just
dawned on me, as I more frequently turn my thoughts to my father as he
progressively grows weaker these days, that the reason might be a reaction on
my part to how my father related with me and how I related with him growing up.
Daddy’s a Japanese born in the late 1920s
who emigrated to the Philippines after the Second World War. That already says
a lot of things. For one, he wasn’t corny at all. The Japanese,
as a general tendency, but more so daddy's generation of Japanese, are not
prone to indulge in public displays of emotion, hence, the famous Japanese
"poker face," or, the Japanese expressions honne and tatemae, the
former being what you really feel deep within; the latter, what you're allowed
to express externally in Japanese society. This usually takes the form of a
composure that one is supposed to maintain at all times, even when your heart
deep within is broken and crying. Even lovers don't usually say "I love
you" to each other. In Japanese "I love you" literally
translated is "ai shite iru." But even a corny fellow like myself
still cringes as I hear that ... it sounds so corny in Japanese. Instead,
lovers in Japan prefer the less explicit suki
desu, literally, "I like you." Of course, that's awfully
unexpressive and unromantic by western or even Filipino standards.
So, if the Japanese (again, as a general
tendency) are not expressive of their affections compared to, say, Filipinos or
even Westerners, how do they show affection and (dare I say it?) love … as well as all the other things connected with love, such
as care, affection, romance and so on?
Well, there are different ways. The most
basic way to say "I care for you" in Japanese especially for a
parent, is to use the word shimpai,
literally, "worry." When a parent tells his child in Japanese "Kimi no koto o otosan wa shimpai shite iru
yo," it literally means in English "Daddy's worried about
you." For all practical reasons, however, it actually means "I care
about you (that’s why I’m worried!)." As parents, aren't we constantly
"worrying" about our children: Are they healthy? Are they happy? Are
they successful? Do they have the right friends? And so forth.
Now "shimpai" when written is composed of two
Kanji or Japanese characters, one, "heart" (心), the other, "to give or offer" (配). From that, one can
understand that "shimpai" is "to give or offer one's heart to
another." Sometimes I wonder whether the usual English translation of
"worry" is extremely misleading.
“Thank You”
in Japan is to Apologize
Why am I saying
this? The reason is, in Japanese culture, a sign that an immature child has
finally grown up is that they can finally acknowledge how much 'shimpai' or
worry they have caused their parents. In that moment of enlightenment, can you
guess what the proper response is? Gratitude perhaps? Well, gratitude would be
the most appropriate response in a western or even Filipino context. However,
in a Japanese context, the proper response is to apologize. Again, here we see
a quintessentially Japanese characteristic - an apology is actually the basic
way to say "thank you" in Japan! Negative perhaps by western
standards but that is just how it is in Japan.
So as I see my
father deteriorate, for some reason the Japanese switch is turned
"on" in me and I can only say, "Iro-iro shimpai o kakete shimatte, gomen nasai." Literally,
"Sorry for having caused you so much worry." This is not merely a pro
forma statement because I really have caused my father so much "shimpai"
(worry) and "kuro" (hardship) as I will explain below.
I think that one of daddy's
most important plans in his life was for one of his sons to live and study in
Japan, become proficient in Japanese and eventually succeed him in the family
business which had (and still has) lots of connections with Japan. He had told
me that plan when I was 10 or 11 and I actually said "yes" to it at
the outset. To make a long story short, at a certain point, I changed my mind
about our initial agreement. Instead of going to Japan after graduating from
elementary school, I chose instead to enter the minor seminary to train for life
in a religious order and the Catholic priesthood. That was a huge disappointment
for Dad. I know that I broke daddy's heart terribly then. Besides, the event had
major repercussions for him, for his relationship with God, but, most
importantly, for his relationship with mom and our whole family. I only came to
realize what those major repercussions were little by little as I grew up and
matured more and I can say that some of them were major and quite painful. As I
look back now, I can only sigh, bow my head Japanese-style and say, "Sumanakatta" "I'm sorry it had
to come to that." Don't forget, that's my Japanese way of saying
"thank you."
I Move to Japan –
Daddy’s Reaction
If you thought that
Japan was over for me at 12 years old, I must say that it was actually only the
beginning. My life journey eventually brought me to Japan. At a certain point,
I began to feel that I was being directed to go to Japan to share the Christian
faith there. In fact, I left the Philippines for Japan at the end of my teen
years. And although some may have seen my going to Japan then as a subconscious
move on my part to atone for breaking daddy's heart previously, at the time, I honestly
didn't really think of "pleasing" my father in any way. I genuinely
believed God was calling me to make that move.
At any rate, as I
plunged with utmost seriousness into the task of trying to become more Japanese
and truly began to put down roots in Japan, as a collateral effect, I realized
that this pleased dad immensely. Although this was not exactly what he intended
originally (I still had no plan whatsoever to help him in the family business),
I guess the fact that one of his four children decided to move to his
motherland and had in fact become part of it became a source of joy and pride
in him. Daddy used to visit me regularly when I lived in Japan and it seemed to
me that he was genuinely proud that his son, although raised in the
Philippines, had become in many ways Japanese like himself.
For my part,
becoming little by little more culturally Japanese meant, among other things,
getting to know my own father this time "on his own terms," that is,
not as the foreigner living in the Philippines struggling to fit into a culture
that wasn't originally his, but as someone born and raised first and foremost as
a Japanese. As I began even to talk in Japanese with daddy, I began to see him
in a new light. Daddy speaking Japanese had a different, more confident, more
relaxed aura. In short, he was more "natural!" He was able to express little nuances
without hesitation, use idioms and concepts that are quintessentially Japanese
and not easily translatable in other cultures.
This was a picture of daddy that I wasn't able to see growing up. In
that sense, I really felt privileged to be able to know my father in terms of his
own Japanese culture because, as everyone knows, many things simply get
"lost in translation."
Daddy’s
Subtle Messages in Small Gestures
I began by saying
that the Japanese are not good in showing their emotions. But, don't forget
that I insisted that that doesn't mean they have no emotions. They just express
emotions more subtly, hence, one should be very observant of the slightest
actions or smallest gestures because they may contain very profound messages.
I remember two
subtle yet profound gestures of daddy for me. The first is a Christmas memory.
One Christmas season, Dad, my younger brother Allan and I went for Christmas
shopping. While we were going around the stalls looking at different things, a
GI Joe doll caught my attention. Since I was old enough to take note of prices,
I noticed that the GI Joe seemed a bit too expensive. I'm pretty sure daddy was
observing me as I continually looked with longing at a toy that I knew was out
of the budget because of its price. So it was daddy who finally made the move
and asked, "Do you like that?"
Of course, trying
hard to be a good boy, I dutifully answered, "Yes but it's too
expensive."
Daddy's response to
that as far as I can remember was, "Di
bale na (the price doesn't matter), why don't you get it?" That may
seem like an insignificant incident from long ago but for some reason, as I see
Daddy’s weakened constitution now,
this memory keeps coming to mind. I distinctly remember feeling profoundly moved
and, in my own boyish way, I felt that I
mattered more to daddy than money or the budget.
The second memory
is more significant. When I was ordained a priest in Tokyo in 1995, after the
ordination day festivities, at a certain point, daddy and I happened to be
alone, walking to the hotel room where my mother and youngest brother were
waiting. As we were walking, daddy just very off-handedly and nonchalantly
remarked in Japanese, nay, in his native Kansai-ben
(the Kansai area dialect), "Mukashi,
iro-iro attan ya kedo, kimi wa yo-- yatta wa' (to translate, We've been
through a lot but ... you've done well." Of course, in proper Japanese
style, I just grunted, "ah..." Again, in keeping with traditional
Japanese emotional sobriety, that doesn't seem like a big deal, but there and
then I was conscious that daddy had given me the most significant sign that he
was very proud of me, that he was giving me the greatest encouragement and
approval that he could ever give. Again, as I see him weak and helpless now,
this memory makes me profoundly grateful.
Good-Will
for Many
During these days of daddy's
illness, I have had numerous occasions to talk with my mother and siblings, as
well as other people whose lives intersected with daddy. Thanks to these
conversations, I can better put together a more complete view of the man who
is my father. One thing that has consistently struck me in these conversations
is the fact that, in Daddy's 86 years of life, he has consistently gone out of
his way to help so many people, be they family members, relatives, friends,
relatives of relatives, friends of friends. It's only beginning to sink in for
me personally that Daddy's track record in philanthropy or, simply, charity (if
we may call it that way) is simply overwhelming. That may have taken the form
of donations to charitable causes or religious projects, an amount given to a
needy relative or a generous tip given to a barber, a commitment to support the
education of a poor person of promise or the forgiving of a debt that someone
couldn't pay, most significantly, providing jobs for many, many people through
his business establishments, you name an act of charity, chances are daddy has
done some form of it. Even when people did not really live up to the kindness
they received from Daddy, in many cases he still continued to help them. I can
only aspire to do even a small fraction of good that daddy has in fact done
during his life.
How Daddy Showed His Affection
Here we come back to the
Japanese being “non-showy” of their affections. Once upon a time, I kind of resented
that. Maybe I still do. That’s why I’m rather on the showy side. But as I look at my father and
reflect on and celebrate his life, I’m trying my best to see how
exactly he showed his love and care for us. As I continue to do this, I realize
that, for all his non-showiness, he has actually very eloquently shown us how
much he treasured us, his family and friends. I will share here what I myself
experienced or what I’ve heard from my family.
One of the major
ways daddy showed us his love was through his work ethic. He was of a
generation of Japanese who grew up convinced that they had to sacrifice
themselves through hard and relentless work in order to achieve success,
prosperity and, yes, happiness. Dad was a relentless worker. He brought his
work everywhere; he continually thought about new enterprises to increase the
prosperity of his family and others. Yes, it is easy to criticize such an ethos
by saying he could’ve made more quality time with us but, as I’ve grown older,
I’ve learned to look at a particular person’s personal contexts to be less
judgmental. I would like to apply that to dear old dad. Many times, that was
the only way he knew to show his care.
His relentless and
dedicated work ethic made him accrue wealth and status that many people could
only admire but not reach. Was he selfish and miserly about this? The answer is
a resounding “No!” As a family, we all agree that daddy was extremely—to use a
Filipino term—“galante” (gallant)—I’d
say sometimes even excessively so—in how he shared his treasure with us and
with others. My mother vouches that he never said “no” to anything she
requested of him in all their years together. My sister cannot recall a moment
when he ever complained about money matters, neither could I. If it was a
question of need, or even of a desire on the part of his loved ones, he got it
if he was able to. My brother-in-law recalls that he was once asked what type
of “defense instrument” among two models was better in his opinion to be used at
the farm. After a short while, he was called to daddy’s office and, to his
shock, was offered as a gift the very option he thought was better. My GI Joe
doll incident above is my most cherished memory. In our times together, he
always told me to be generous with tips as they would make people happy and
enable them to serve even better. These are just some of the many ways he tried
to show us that he loved us in the way he knew best.
In one of the few
times that I was visiting home from wherever I found myself in the world, we
were having breakfast together and he began to tell me of the assets of the
family not as a boast but as a way to drive home the lesson that “your mommy
and I worked hard to gain all of this for you and our family.” Again, one can
make a case that money and wealth are not everything but given daddy’s contexts
– growing up in scarcity in a war-torn Japan, having to work hard from scratch
to build up a decent and comfortable life – that was the best way he knew in
order to say, “I care for you.” And I honor and cherish that.
Of course, not
everything is rose-colored and merry. Daddy had his shortcomings as we all do. But
as we find ourselves accompanying our beloved daddy in what could very well be
his last moments, I would like to honor what I think are the finest traits in
him. I would like to cherish and relish these aspects in my heart and learn
from his figure and his life. I would like to entrust him to the gracious
mystery we know as God so that this loving parent of us all may soon welcome
and embrace our beloved father for all eternity. I would like to tell daddy, ご苦労様“Go-kuro-sama”
(thanks for everything!), もう一頑張りだ“Mo hito-gambari da!” (just one last effort!),
心配することなく、安心して、皆、ついているから(Shimpai
naku, anshin shite, mina, tsuite iru kara) Don’t you worry, we’re all here
beside you!
In the end, as we
entrust daddy to the hands of the gracious and loving God, I would like to
repeat with the mystic Julian of Norwich, “All shall be well, and all shall be
well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”
Let me pen below a brief summation of the path he has taken up
until now according to the best of my knowledge.
A.S.K.
born in 1927 in Kiryu-shi, Gunma-Ken, Japan
born to A. and K. K.
older sibling of T.
Studied Wood Technology in Kyoto, Japan
After World War II, toyed with the idea of escaping
war-ravaged Japan by going abroad
Went to the Philippines in the early 1950s.
Met Barbara G. whom he married in the late1950s
From the late 50s to the late 60s, four children were born
to them, J.A.M., M.S.M., Julius (myself) and A.K..
After a brief stint working in Japan in the mid-60s, returned
to the Philippines where he worked at Nippi at the Manila branch.
In the mid-70s, he established A.S.C. which continues to this day (2013).
He is a great, hard-working dad. We
treasure and love him very much (yes, that’s a bit corny but now you know why
;) .
