little things, large memories

With Jiji-san in front of his old elementary school -- it is now a nationally important cultural property.

As an artist, I am obsessed with details. Not if they are right or wrong, or too apparent or not clear enough, but instead the small things and the moments they hold. Besides my eyes, photographs are the closest way others can see through my eyes, what I value and what I pay attention to. 

Isabella, Malee, Natalia, and I stayed with the Kaneta family for 3 days, one of those days completely in their care.  In total, their hospitality was wonderful, and I am truly grateful for their grace in guiding us, holding conversations and laughing with us using the translator, and engaging with us in ways we would find valuable and memorable.

(Left to Right) Malee, Clarke, Jiji-san, Natalia, Okasan, and Isabella at the farewell party.

In the morning, I awoke sweating, yet shivering as I crawled to my phone. Breakfast was to be served at 8 AM by Okasan before our fun and interesting day ahead. I walked down the icy hallway to the restroom where my breath turned into clouds, the water froze my skin, and my toiletries were solid. I was so glad Jiji-san introduced us to their shower and bath the night before (the most relaxing experience ever) so that I could wash up and still feel clean. I turned on the heater and prepared for the day. The air was still and quiet, only the clock ticking reminding me of Granni’s house and the many times I had slept over. It was indeed cold outside and I was thankful for my warm shoes, corduroy outfit, and insulated winterwear. We made our futons and headed to see Okasan for breakfast. Served was salmon, some kind of egg, a sweet pudding-like Creme-Brulee, a sweet potato or pumpkin-like hashbrown that was my favorite, and, of course, Ocha (coffee for Isabella). Last night, Okasan and Jiji-san told us that we were being taken to wear kimonos, handing us photos of Canadian guests who previously stayed at their home a while back. We all glanced around with excitement; I asked Okasan if she had images of her wearing a kimono, but Jijji-san said it was a hassle to retrieve as their photos were stored away. We said “Ohayou-gozaimsu” to Chibi-san (the little one Shiba Inu) and went off with Jiji-san to our destination.

We were welcomed into a large wooden venue where a shorter older lady ushered us to choose our color kimono and other ladies prepared to fix our hair. Later on, Jiji-san told us that the kimono is usually worn now during weddings or funerals. I chose a dark green kimono with white details and a small pink blossoms pattern throughout. To match, I grabbed a forest green bottom that also had blossoms I hadn’t noticed until I looked down and in the mirror. My hair, already in two pigtails, was fitted with a forest green bow to match. The black boots slid on my feet fit perfectly, and I clicked-clacked my way outside with Malee. With Jiji-san, we began taking photos and walking around this wooden building as we waited for Natalia and Isabella to finish. In each room were documents, as early as 1899, with writings and photographs. Jiji-san told us that this wooden building was his former elementary school in Tome which had been nationally designated as an important cultural property— 70 years ago, he was a part of the first class to attend.

Standing 150 years, the glass windows installed during the Meiji period were warped, but Jiji-san hilariously pointed out that the straighter glass was where they replaced ones broken by the elementary students. The spacious entrance was grey, rocky, and contained various trees bearing the cold climate. It was amazing to see and walk the grounds of a place of one’s childhood. It all made sense that Jijj-san had lived in this town forever. 

JICE staff members visited us and snapped a photo of us with Jiji-san. We lost some feeling in our fingers and toes, but it was a special moment. Later when we returned home, Jiji-san printed each photo individually and with multiple copies, handing them in envelopes with our images and names in katakana for our keepsake. Through the translator, we thanked him for the precious memories we had made and the valuable knowledge he had given us all in this short period of time.

After eating at a local soba restaurant known for its chicken rice (10/10, hands down, one of the warmest meals ever), we headed to a manga artists’ museum, which was unfortunately closed for the day. We then traveled to the safari park suggested by Jiji-san and fed animals from donkeys to zebras to a giraffe (a very unique once-in-a-lifetime experience).

We ended the day with Okasan, making tissue wallets from beautifully patterned fabric from Sendai, already sewn. It reminded me of my own sewing kit from childhood. Her hands worked diligently, showing us how to flip, fold, and iron each piece. Her work was also found in the soba restaurant we previously went to. It gave me joy to see someone indulging in their passion without holding back and sharing it with us. Okasan was meticulous, making sure each corner was pushed out sharply and the tissue packs were secure. She showed us her bags and also presented us with an omiyage tissue wallet for our own moms at home.  Even around the room and entrance of the home were framed canvases with her pressed flower art; we commented that it looked so well done and neat. 

Okasan in the zone!

At dinner we talked about our lives, what we study, the parallels of fires in Japan and L.A., their family life, and our food tastes. Jiji-san prepared the bath for us and we were sent off to complete our night together in our personal room with no worries, full bellies, and joyous memories from the dinner table.

At the beginning, I mentioned that I am an artist who is obsessed with the details. The details I absorb, appreciate, and value are what may seem insignificant at first but linger in my mind throughout the day and beyond. What others hold close and remember, such as Jiji-san’s elementary school and Okasan’s wallets, are details that I also capture in my eyes. The details can be small, but the memories themselves are big. 

I give thanks to the Kaneta family for their acceptance and inclusion in their cultural and homely practices, and their openness to learning about ours.

Warmly,

Clarke Hamilton

クラーク