The Irony of Life

I'm now busily scanning photos from albums spanning the last 35 years of our family. It is a daunting task, but my son, Jon has asked me to preserve the photos before the Hawaiian weather destroys them. The colors are beginning to shift in many of the very old photos. I'm so glad we bought a new scanner that actually restores some of the original color. The photo below is from 1974 at Kamuela Airport (Big Island, Hawaii). We'd gone to visit Art's parents before we moved to Illinois.


I realize that there are often stories about terrible relationships with in-laws. I have been really, really lucky and blessed. Art's parents were loving, respected, honest people who always put everybody else's needs before their own. They made sure from the start that they considered themselves my mom and dad also. I did.


Art's mom suffered from breast cancer, rheumatoid arthritis and other ailments that she contracted from the hard work of operating the marginal Sweet Shoppe (restaurant) with her husband. She had a double mastectomy and eventually lost one of her legs and was confined to a wheelchair. She never, ever complained. We know Dad would have loved to travel (I do think it's a genetic thing since Art, Tif and Jon are the same way), but he refused to leave her side except to attend our wedding on Oahu.

We realized that we might not have Mom with us very long so we took photos of her every chance we got. We didn't take a lot of Dad because he was so busy running the restaurant as well as the movie theater across the street for the widow who owned it. Dad kept the books, got the movies, and ran the projector for the failed business so that the widow could have an income.

He would get up at 5:00 every morning to open his restaurant for the very few customers who would come in for their morning coffee. I told him he needed to stop that. He was ruining his health by not getting enough rest for pennies of profit.

He said, "These customers are the people who have kept me in business when this town was thriving. I can't stop being here for them when they now need me."

Art had plans. He said that when the time came when we would have to lose Mom, we would take Dad and travel everywhere with him.

When Dad was just a young man he traveled from his sleepy country town on the Big Island to Milwaukee's Institute of Technology to become an engineer. Unfortunately, he contracted a liver ailment, was operated on and had to return home to Hawaii for a prolonged recuperation. There was never enough funds for him to go back to continue his education so his dreams were unfulfilled. He found joy in sending both his children to the Midwest to graduate from colleges there. He was never bitter about what life denied him, but seemed to love the life he made on the Big Island with Mom.


When we brought Tiffany to Hawaii to visit her grandparents, they were overjoyed! Grandpa would carry the not all that light Tiffany up and down the town showing her off to everybody. People would tell us how proud he looked. He loved her so much. This January, 1978 picture is the visit where we told them I was expecting again. Dad said he knew it would be a boy. Mom agreed. They were so sure. I just had to smile. Dad had finally retired and he was happy and relaxed. We returned to Illinois after a wonderful visit.

A month later, February, we were awakened by a phone call informing us that Dad had a heart attack. Before we could make all our plane reservations and pack our suitcases, we got another call saying Dad had passed away. How could this be? We had plans. We were going to show Dad the world.

It was such a terrible time of sadness, but Mom still kept herself in control trying to keep everybody else's spirit up.

Art and his sister went through the house, taking care of all the necessary paperwork to move Mom to California where my sister-in-law lived. When they went through Dad's desk they came across a checkbook box. In it was a stack of uncashed checks he'd written to himself for operating the movie theater. He didn't want his owner friend to know that he was not paying himself, that he'd been taking care of her without her feeling any obligation to him. We were stunned.

Before we left, Art's mom took us aside and begged us for one thing. "Please," she pleaded, "when your son is born, name him after his grandfather." We did. Jiro is Jon's middle name and he will carry his grandfather's legacy.

I have married the man who was raised by these incredible people. It's not surprising that he has taken such pains to make sure my mother is always happy and comfortable. It's not all that surprising that he wants to take her to see the world.