The Finished Product: Auntie Frances

Frances Sumiko Yoshida-Wiley

Since the Wileys lived 2,000 miles away, we rarely saw one another, but the news of Auntie's passing of course still hurts us all out here in Cali. So, I told my cousin Kim that while I wanted to memorialize her mom, it then hit me; with such limited interaction, what would I say? I'd pretty much committed my Wiley recollections when writing about her son, cousin Joey.

Given that my approach would have to be wide-angled, where's the hook? More, is such an approach worthy? In the end, ascribing thoughts and feelings to someone you've affection for and have very limited interaction with is tough.

But this is Ma's sister.

The ego pushes on, but honestly, because I feel so strongly about the Yoshidas, and in this moment, my mother's sister, that generation and their time.

So here's to some reaching, some talking about Auntie via indirect lenses. After quite a bit of pondering, I think the heart of it is this American story whose great chapter is coming to a close. Like Ma's passing, the Yoshidas – the Nisei -- mark a unique time in American history, where rising from the depths through a get it done attitude into cool, fresh air was done en masse. I, and all of my cousins, are the fruits, the living embodiment of an America that was. Not earth shattering, but it's our story.

The saying is, you can't choose your family, but the Yoshidas are lucky; we come from solid stock. The family huddles don't happen anymore, so, yes, here's to nostalgia. Really, it isn't so much about nostalgia, but reverence. I can see how that sounds corny, but I'm long past the point where what the Yoshidas slogged through impressed me. Romantic, yes, and not wide-eyed, but a bit misty-eyed.

There's all of that and the practicality of speaking from the heart about a woman I barely knew but am bound to through blood and affection. My mother's sister.

=====================================================================

Auntie said something the last time I saw her in Chi: I'd kill for my kids, and it's something that's always stuck. While the context is lost, the intensity isn't; she meant it with every fiber. I'm agnostic when it comes to astrology, but it does seem that the nature of us Cancers is to feel intensely; you see, here's something Auntie and I share besides blood: we have the same birthday.

Having read Auntie's bio forwarded by Kim made me smile: intellectual prowess, artistic bent and a touch of precociousness – chutzpah, maybe...? – stood her out among 7 brothers and sisters.

Auntie on the left bent over leaning on May, Ma on the ground. The BEST.

Her siblings shared that penchant for cracking up duly noted when writing about Ma. Seems whenever the Yoshida sisters got together something would set them off, and Auntie Frances, Auntie May and Ma seemed to always be removing their glasses at some point, crying tears of laughter. Since I was an only kid, the Wileys or any family that rolled through LA, would

May, Frances, Ross, Ma, Kathy. Auntie's already got the bug!

invariably stay with us, so ringside seats seeing these scenes play out are enduring memories. Luck's given us Yoshida cousins a great family – and stories -- separated by geography but united by such a great spirit.

When the Wiley brood rolled through LA back in the day the cousins stayed with us, and I went from an only child to swimming in cousins. There's a couple of good stories in there. Here's one; Ma and Auntie had us boys in the bathroom prepping us for a bath. So, I stripped down to the tighty whiteys and then stood up straight. Auntie, a shock of hair across her face, was bent over, going through the task that for her was by now routine, busily pulling up Larry's or Jimi's – or both! -- t-shirt over his head. I think Joey was already butt naked.

Auntie: C'mon Geoffrey!

Me: Uh....

Auntie: (not missing a beat) Oh! You haven't got anything I haven't seen, and if you do, show me!

Amidst her intellect and artistic leanings, I think that straightforward pragmatism is something her generation had, but in many ways, is lost today. Yeah, life's uncomfortable at times and can be tough. Shut up and play yer guitar!

America recently crossed a milestone: More of us now live in cities than rural areas. Coming up in Lindsay, the Yoshidas were country as all get out, and so it was with Auntie developing her dislike of chicken from plucking them. There's much more, of course, even in the face of my romanticizing the Brokaw dubbed 'Greatest Generation.” Bottom line, I'd bet that not one of the 25 Yoshida cousins has ever plucked a chicken (at least willingly), much less experienced a day of hunger.

Despite the betrayal of her country to her family, Auntie Frances got on with it. She couldn't have been happy about the prison camps (let's call them what they were), but her drive to excel was evident; her masters from Chicago and especially her 8 kids, the ones she'd kill for. And a gaggle of grandkids.

It's funny how getting older brings the essentials into focus, nearer, and yet still beyond reach. Why are we here? Auntie Frances and her generation didn't beseech the heavens from rooftops, nor did they indulge in selfies much less in “finding themselves,” but just got on with business. “No monku-ing” was their motto. They are the last of an America that needs some of that old school grit now.

We watched Michael Jordan perform jaw-dropping feats, but hidden away are the endless days and nights of practice. The Malcolm Gladwell codified "10,000 hours" minimum practice it takes to become good at something.

I hated every minute of training, but I said, 'Don't quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.

--Muhammad Ali

So, there's the finished product that was Auntie Frances, a drive to excel and the bevy of good people she produced and helped. It's not the spotlight or in the championship ring. It's pulling off my cousin's t-shirt as a little kid to get ready for a bath. It's being mad at Joey and trying to whup his butt but giving up and flopping in a chair because he was making her laugh so much. A shock of hair and the Yoshida love of laughter. 

No, it's not the bright lights, it's answering life with getting down to it. Being a country girl from Lindsay, what's hidden is the practice, those plucked chickens.

A One Way Street Named Loyalty

I've been up in Berkeley for about 2 weeks now, and I must say, it's a welcome break from LA. One of the good things is I got to see my cousin Warren and his wife, Janet.

During our dinner, we got on the topic of sports, and being much older than me - sorry, cuz - Warren had all these great stories about his early support of the Raiders. There were some great anecdotes, but one of the most astounding was when he said that in the early days - this must have been the mid 60's - when they played in what sounded like a podunky kind of field (Youell Field...?) he said you could walk right up behind the bench and hear all of their chatter.

My god, can you imagine that?

This was a team whose rep preceded them by a country mile, and I have to admit, the Rams who I was loyal to for years but who ended up telling all of the LA fans to fuck off, paled in comparison. The Raiders, from the artistry of Fred Biletnikoff to the craziness of "The Mad Stork" Ted Hendricks to the beautiful aggressiveness of Jack Tatum (one of my favorite players because I played free safety) defined "bad" and backed it up in spades. I just can't imagine what it would have been like to have watched and listened to these legends of the game.

That being able to listen to the players, it's no small point, as Ed Sabol's NFL Films would show some years later, slowing down the game and making it heard so that its beauty could be greater appreciated. Today it's all about security and posses, let alone the crush of media. A kid's lucky if he even catches a glimpse of a player these days.

The other major point in Warren's reminiscences was his being an early season seat holder, for a mere few hundred bucks. When in 1992 the team - let's be honest, shall we? Al "I never saw a dollar I wouldn't run over my mom for" Davis - picked up and moved to LA, it was merely following in the footsteps of the Rams, who had done the same. Thus, money triumphs over loyalty, and in a mark of cruelty seen only by the likes of Stalin and that shithead priest who was preying on deaf kids, Davis would move the team back to Oakland. This, after having pocketed a cool $10 mil non-refundable deposit from LA's Irwindale after a failed bid, screwing the old Raider fans by making them put down a huge deposit much like what the Yanks did to Artie Lange and getting the city of Oakland to once again mistake bending over for opening one's arms in welcome.

~~~~~

It's a habit of old folks like us to romanticize "the good ole' days" but damn sometimes it's true. Later, while watching the Lakers and Jazz play, I was prompted by a commercial to tell Warren that I feel lucky in one regard to having come up before the mega-growth of sports. I have no memories whatsoever of one of the NBA legends and my boyhood hero Elgin Baylor acting like a jerkoff in some shitty, canned commercial for sugar water or a car that promises to get you any amount of women. Talking to Warren makes me think of the Little Richard quote I used for Ma's piece where he talks about the old time rock and roll as representing the joy, fun and happiness in music. That's how it was then, just a joy, awesome, really, to watch these magnificent athletes strutting like titans. All without a motherfuckin' posse and them feeling as if the universe was lucky to have them.

After hearing Warren's reminiscences the anger I had about pro sports today was slowly replaced with feeling awfully lucky to have come up when we did.

Me: "It ain't like the old days."

Warren looks down, slightly wistful, with a smile: "No, it sure isn't."

Once More, with Feeling

I am having such a great time going through memorabilia, so, I'll post things here and there, and ultimately, I'll create a Yoshida blog where a lot of this can be archived, shared and commented upon.


Here's a great pic; don't know the year, but my guess is the early 70's, judging by the muscle car windshields that pass for eyeglasses. The setting's probably LA. And too, I wanted to post a pic of Auntie Rosie, since Naomi emailed and told me why she wasn't in the previous ones of them cracking up. The sunset and cityscape give this pic an added dimension, but it's the sweetness of the sisters that comes through. Don't know what happened to Auntie Frances; I think Uncle Joe sent her to make him a sandwich so he could be mackin' with his wife's sisters!


From left to right: Auntie Rosie, Auntie Kathy, Uncle Joe, Ma, and Auntie May.


CLICK ON PIC TO ENLARGE

Legends of Laughter: The Yoshida Sisters Lose It!

As further proof that historical memory is foggy at best, I think given the fact we're talking '89 and I'm an old fart now gives me at least a .300 batting average, considering the following.

So, I got a lot of mail about my post on Ma, and while it was straight from the heart, it was her sad, melancholy boy writing - which is fine, but there was a real reason I made Ma's love of laughter the major portion of her homage. One thing for sure that I would bet the house on; Ma would NOT want anyone moping around feeling sad because she'd gone on. She'd appreciate that there would be a few tears, but at the end of the day she'd want everyone to remember how fun she was and laugh!

Today, Renee, Deb and I were going through Ma's stuff, and of course it was a walk down memory lane. If not for the frequent stops reminiscing, we might have finished, but oh well, it's all good as the youngins say.

So, we kept sloggin' on. And then, BAM! The motherlode...

Here's the setup; I was right about the pics of the Yoshida sisters cracking up being from the '89 Visalia Imoto/Yoshida Reunion. What I got wrong:

1. The Yoshida BROTHERS - Uncle George and Bert - were in it as well.
2. Auntie Rosie/Ross is conspicuously absent. Maybe she knew how crazy her sisters were, and she, being the kind of lady who knew how to comport herself, bowed out... I'm KIDDING, of course.

So here's the setup in pic one, where everyone seems fairly together...

CLICK ON THE PIC TO ENLARGE


...and then, this is obviously after the fuse had been lit and the bomb exploded...

CLICK ON THE PIC TO ENLARGE


I'll let you savor this a bit. Anyone who knows the Yoshida sisters, I defy you to not smile or just plain crack up at this. Aside from Ma losing it, falling on her knees and Auntie Kathy looking like she's tending to her, it was Auntie Francis who was doubled over, not Auntie May, who looks like she's about to anyway.

What also cracks me up is the way Uncle George, Uncle Bert and Auntie Nellie, the elders, are relatively stoic. I think that's Joey's kid Zack frame left.

Now, curiously, the second pic must have been from a different setup (but within a near time frame) because they're standing in a different sequence. Because of that, I have a strong feeling that there are several other pics from this "sitting" that are missing. Anyone have some more of these...? If so, PLEASE let me know. That aside, this has to go down as my all time favorite and is my nomination to be the first in the Yoshida Hall of Fame.

What a classic - and Ma of course leading the way - I can hear her now!

Elizabeth "Beti" Sadako Yoshida

The hospital said Ma was gone as of 9pm, but I know it was sooner than that; Deb and I were on the 405 headed back from UCLA and a strange sound came into my left ear; I thought of Ma...

I can't say it enough, but Ma, her siblings and the extended Yoshida clan are the last of their kind. There's a great quote by Little Richard that by analogy says it better than I can:

I think that when people want joy and fun and happiness, they want to hear the old-time rock & roll. And I'm just glad that I was a part of that. There's only a few of us left: myself, Bo Diddley, Chuck, Fats, Jerry Lee, the Everly Brothers. It's getting thin. So I think this is the last of it, the last of the good days. Soon there'll be a totally new thing. But it won't be the same. Never.

That's EXACTLY the way I feel; glad to have been brought up by her, the one I point to who gave to me one of the greatest gifts - the gift of knowledge.

There's a great picture - somewhere - of Ma, taken of her lying on a couch reading a book, her chin propped in her hand. It's one of the ways I remember her as a kid, always reading. Our den was a testament to her habit with books everywhere; it was a great resource for me.

Like many of her generation, she grew up very poor, with the twin shadows of the Depression and post WWII sentiment about Japanese. Race was something the Nisei never really addressed openly, at least to us Sansei, but given how crazy America's racial melting pot was and is, this silence shaped us in ways too numerous to list. But you can imagine.

As a kid she lived briefly in Iowa with Uncle George, her eldest brother, but I'll always associate Ma with Lindsay. In many ways, Lindsay is the heart of the Yoshidas; I think I'll scatter her ashes there.

Her stories about being young at that time still paint vivid pictures. They didn't have it hard like the pioneers, but they had it hard. Recently, Auntie Kathy told me she hated that time, which is sad given the way our youth is romanticized in this country. When I asked her why, she said simply that they were so poor....

Ma told me: One day I was sooooo hungry, and Frances or May was cooking. But all we had was cabbage. So when the food came, it was just cabbage and some kind of white sauce made from flour or something. And even though I was hungry, I couldn't eat it.

We are descended from farmers, plain and simple, and if you want to get down to it, country livin'. It's not Alabama, but just because Cali has LA and Frisco doesn't mean it isn't country out here.

Ma again: Mama would tell George, "We need something for dinner," and he'd walk out the door and grab his rifle on the way out. He'd come back with maybe a couple of rabbits, and I'd sit there transfixed, watching him string them up, skin and clean them.

Now that's country.

That wave that Tom Brokaw calls "The Greatest Generation," would go on to create the greatest middle class in history, and Ma was right there in the thick of it. Here're some snippets:

-I remember the drama in her voice when she told me about being at UCLA and the fear struck into everyone because of McCarthy. It was like a cloud over everything.

-I found out about one of the greatest, most extensive mass transit systems in America, right here in LA, the red car, from Ma. It was great; my girlfriends and I would catch it downtown and ride all the way to the harbor, eat lunch, have some fun, then ride it all the way back. For a nickel.

-She seemed to know who everyone in old Hollywood was.

But by far, her greatest asset was her sense of humor, and that was most definitely one zillion percent genetic. Plainly, the Yoshida sisters were legendary for busting up at family gatherings. Whenever we had a large family get together, it was just a matter of time before the fuse was lit and the bomb would explode.

That would prompt everyone else to stop what they were doing and look on in bemusement, as if some new show were on TV. As a kid, I remember the uncles playing cards, and a Yoshida sisters bomb went off, prompting Uncle Mack to hoist his jigger and matter of factly remark, Those Yoshida girls, there they go again.

The Yoshida sisters and their penchant for laughing till it hurts. And I thank heaven I'm descended from that stock, because if you can't laugh with others, at life and yourself then the party's over. And don't worry, Renee has the Yoshida laughing gene in full effect.

There's another great series of pics from our reunion that cousin Judy organized in Visalia back in '89 or thereabouts. I had grouped the Yoshida sisters for a photo, and then, yup, someone lit the fuse. As the photos go on, Ma finally ends up on her knees and Auntie May is doubling over while Auntie Frances looks like she's crying. Auntie Ross, prim and proper, would always laugh along heartily but she was too much the lady. Auntie Kathy, nutty like Ma, would crack up too but I remember her looking on at her big sisters with bemusement. And Auntie Nellie, the matriarch, seemed pretty entertained by the den of young hens beneath her.

That was the best of Ma, fun loving and not a mean bone in her body.

When Beti Yoshida laughs the mountains shake.

I'm glad that I had her as a mother, from a special generation and breed - tough as nails. Truly American.

And to paraphrase Little Richard:

There's only a few of the Yoshidas left... It's getting thin. So I think this is the last of it, the last of that special breed. And I'm just glad that I was her son. Soon there'll be a totally new generation and time.

But it won't be the same.

Never.

See you later, Ma. I love you.

A Worthy Advisor

...and I will leave. But the birds will stay, singing:
and my garden will stay, with its green tree,
and its water well.

Many afternoons the sky will be blue and placid,
and the bells in the belfry will chime,
as they are chiming this very afternoon.

The people who have loved me will pass away,
and the town will burst anew every year.
But my spirit will always wander nostalgic
in the same recondite corner of my flowery garden.

-Juan Ramon Jimenez

For Cousin Joey, George Carlin and Fred Haines

Handful of Memories: Cousin Joey

Moms was prescient enough when I was a kid to take me to New York, and while there we skipped over to Chi-Town to see my Auntie Frances and Uncle Joe who had a brownstone in Hyde Park near the University of Chicago, where they met. From Chi, my auntie, moms and my cousin Joey and I drove to Des Moines to see my Uncle George and Auntie Ann.

Here's one thing I remember about Auntie Frances & Unc Joe's; it was crawling with kids - 8 siblings! But I was lucky enough to share a room with my cousin Joey, a couple of years older than me, but seemingly light years ahead of me in everything. I'd lie there in the bottom bunk for what seemed like endless hours while he schooled me on the intricacies of dog fighting, the fighter plane type. I can remember that he was the first one to tell me who Eddie Rickenbacker was. Later, Uncle Joe, or "Unc" as I liked to call him, took us to see The Blue Max. Joey and I of course cracked up when George Peppard and Ursula Andress got it on.

Over the ensuing years we had a couple of big family shindigs, and I remember a couple of them the Chi-brood stayed at our joint. But for the most part, with so much space in between LA and Chi, we didn't really share much.

What's funny though is how, as I got older, I'd mention my cousins for any number of reasons, more often than not when issues of race would come up. This was more common when talking with other APAs about inter-racial marriages, because the majority of the time it's about Asian and white unions. And when I'd mention I had black relatives, they'd just smile, and say, "Oh, really?" Well, what are they supposed to say...?

Those couple of nights I spent in Joey's room are seared into my memory forever because of this:

A man had a dog named "Balls Itch." One day, Balls Itch got loose, and the man ran down the street yelling, "My Balls Itch, my Balls Itch!" When a policeman stopped him and said, "Hey Mister, my balls itch too, but if I were you I wouldn't run around advertising it!"

Joey had jokes, and I was in heaven, as he had me either in stitches or enthralled talking about the differences between bi-planes and tri-planes.

There's a great picture - somewhere - of Joey and I while on our trip to Des Moines, furiously pumping a water pump out in podunk somewhere.

He joined the army and served in Nam. He told me a few hair-raising stories when I saw him last in New York, where we shared dinner and a really solid conversation about life, politics, race... I remember turning back to look at him as he limped off and thinking that I was pretty damn lucky to be related to a guy like that.

That limp by the way is a whale of a story. I probably have a bunch of the details wrong, but Joey was driving when he saw someone whose car had broken down, so he pulled over to help. As he's standing there between the cars, talking to the driver, a drunk slams into the back of Joey's car and crushes Joey between the two cars. He drags himself to the embankment and angles his legs upward to slow the bleeding.

So of course, Joey went on to become a doctor.

Chi-town of course, like any major urban city, had its rough spots, and I remember Auntie telling me of hearing that one of his sisters was in trouble somewhere and he'd grab a knife and run out of the house.

In fact, one more memory has re-surfaced; when Joey and I were going to go out in the hood one day, I remember he handed me a small canister. I asked what it was, and he said, "just in case." Well, it was pepper spray, so of course, we being two young boys, we beat Jackass to the punch and had to find out what it was about. So we went into an alley and sprayed a bit into the air and then sniffed. Hahahahahahahahaha....

One more funny story: My Auntie Frances is afflicted with the "Yoshida Curse" - she loves to laugh. And of the eight Yoshida siblings, her and my mom are probably at the top of the heap. I remember Auntie telling of how she knew Joey was growing up because she said she picked up something to whup his ass with one day and Joey kept on dodging her and cracking jokes. She said she finally gave up and flopped in a chair because she was laughing too much!

I'm jealous of Joey's brothers and sisters, because he was so smart, so funny, and just a really solid, good guy. He was a good raconteur... I wish I could have known him better, but am truly grateful for the fond memories.