Cultural Still Life

Hiroko Sakihara

I recently returned to the Mainland from my annual visit home during the Christmas/New Year’s break between semesters. I have made this trip to Hawaii for the past seven years. Every year before I leave to return to work in the Midwest my Grandmother quietly hands me some money, asks me to take care, and return home safely next year. At the airport this year, as she handed me her annual gift, my Grandmother hesitatingly mentioned that she might not be able to do this too many more times. Then she smiled and walked away. I was stunned for a moment, but everything quickly returned to normal. I said my good-byes to everyone and boarded the plane.

My mother’s mother is my last living relative from the Issei generation. My Grandmother grew up in Hawaii during the time of plantation camps, picture brides, and mass immigration from Okinawa and Japan. My Grandmother’s name is Hiroko Sakihara and she is one of the most loving and caring people I know. She understands English but feels more comfortable speaking a local “pidgin” Japanese. It is difficult to have long conversations in English with my grandmother so I have learned about her life through the stories my mother tells me. These are mostly stories about specific events in the family’s past that may explain situations in the present. I still wish I knew more about my Grandmother. She is my cultural past. And she is anticipating her own death.