Monday, August 17, 2015

California Drought - Part 2

On July 17, I heard about the brush fire that set 20 plus cars ablaze on the California highway I-15. I mistakenly thought it was in El Cajon. Oh, no! I thought of El Cajon, San Diego but I heard it wrong. It was Cajon (meaning ravine in Spanish) Pass in San Bernardino. Checking on where Cajon Pass is, I found it close to the junction of Route 138 east to Lake Arrowhead. That is where I stopped the car to see the Mormon Rocks on my way to Victorville and maybe to Las Vegas via Barstow. In the late 1800s, Mormons from Utah, trudging their covered wagons, named those gigantic rocks and followed the arrow sign "to go down south the mountain road" and ended up settling in San Bernardino.

As an ex-San Diegan, I opened my dusty San Diego Roadmap to review San Diego water reservoirs I knew. My understanding is that San Diego is 20% dependent on the northern State Bay-Delta water, 65% on Colorado River, 15% on local surface/ground water, conservation (reservoir) and recycled water. Please kindly correct these figures if I’m wrong.

Two major San Diego Rivers (both about 50 miles) originate in the Cuyamaca Mountains. First, the San Diego River, from the northwest of Julian, a historic landmark for goldmines and today known for its apple-pies, flows southwest until it reaches the El Captain Reservoir, the largest reservoir in San Diego. Then it flows down through Santee and Old Mission Dam Historic Site before going by Fashion Valley through the floodway to Mission Bay. The other, called Sweetwater, runs down Alpine through Cleveland National Forest into Harbison Canyon (after John Harbison who built his honey kingdom there but was destroyed by fires - in 2003. President G. W. Bush inspected the site accompanied by both Governor Gray Davis and Governor Elect Arnold Schwarzenegger) and discharges into the San Diego Bay. Other reservoirs listed on the map include Sutherland, Cuyamaca, San Vicente, Dixon, Miramar, Morena, Loveland, Otay, Sweetwater and lakes include Henshaw, Barret, Hodge, Mohlford, San Marcos, and Del Cerro.

I have followed various attempts at desalination in California over the years, starting with efforts by Point Loma Naval Unit (taken to Guantanamo, Cuba), General Atomic testing and then SDG&E Carlsbad plant. Last year, it was reported that there was a breakthrough after decades of studies conducted and financed by Poseidon Water at the Agua Hedionda (stinking water in Spanish) desalination plant in Carlsbad. It utilizes the most advanced reverse osmosis technology in collaboration with the nearby Encina Power Plant (now owned by NRG Power). Poseidon Water is advertising a public plant tour on September 4.

I assume the plant completion is imminent. Once production starts, 50 million gallons (190,000 cubic meters) of water per day will be delivered to San Diego residents. I co-owned a house in Carlsbad with my son, so I felt pleased and proud of the achievement. The plant will be the largest in the western hemisphere and by 2020, the plant is expected to supply up to 7% of San Diego County water demand.

I compared Carlsbad’s 190,000 cubic meters of desalinated water with the Kumamoto’s water sprung daily at Ezu Lake. Ezu lately reported declining water levels but the Lake produces 50,000 cubic meters per day. The figures are just for comparison.

Note: Photo of Carlsbad beach wtih Encina Power Plant in distance was taken by my friend Haruo Toda (Hachioji, Japan)

Thursday, August 6, 2015

California Drought and San Diego Avocados

My first visit to San Diego was in spring during mid-50s. I was charmed with the climate and Balboa Park. It was “love at first sight”. When I heard about a job opening a decade later, my mind was set and I was ready to face my destiny. “Maquiladoras” (an operation in a free trade zone) was just happening right over the Mexican border. I like Mexican dishes. My favorite avocados are mass produced. I took my family and other to Old Town, Coronado, La Jolla, El Cajon, Escondido and even to Tijuana on weekends, all in pursuit of Mexican cuisine. Our Sunday lunches were from “Salazar’s”, at the Clairemont shopping center around the corner from where we lived and we all loved their burritos and Chimichangas.

I often took newly arrived expatriates to introduce them to Mexican tacos and quesadillas. Their first reactions were wry and unfavorable. But I thought they would thank me after awhile as their taste developed. My conviction was firm. However, very few thanked me.

Coming back to Japan, I miss everything Mexican. Big cities like Tokyo and Osaka have a Mexican restaurant or two. I frequented El Torito in Roppongi when I was in Tokyo. The nearest city where I live now is Fukuoka.

A good thing is that we can buy avocados throughout the year at our local Price Club. The zooming Japanese import of avocados, mostly “Hass” (pronounced hoss) are from Michoacan in Mexico (95%). I visited Uruapan, the avocado capital of the Michoacan State. The import price is between 300 yen and 400 yen each.

Recently I read the sad news that the California drought may reduce avocado production and my favorite San Diego 'Chipotle' predicts suspension of serving guacamole at its restaurants. I’m praying that Mexican avocado groves will escape the drought so that we Japanese can continue to enjoy this delicious fruit with no inflationary price.

Planting of avocados in San Diego dates back to 1892 according to the California Avocado Association. The oldest avocado tree in San Diego County was a Mexican seedling in Escondido, which came from the Department of Agriculture, Washington. Avocado is as old as rice in human history, Incas being the first to harvest as early as 500 BC. I found a tale of savage revenge from the South American country of Guiana. Ancient Aztec, Mayan and Inca cultures believed that avocados nourished the body externally as well as internally. Mayan folklore tells how the famous Indian, Seriokai, was able to trace his unfaithful wife to the end of the world. The lovers adored avocados and ate them wherever they went. Seriokai followed the young trees, which sprang from the discarded seeds. The three, the lovers and their pursuer, are now in an endless race up in the sky, Serioki as Orion, his wife Pleiades, and her lover, the wicked tapir as Hyades.

In Mexico, the avocado has long been considered an aphrodisiac. An old Aztec legend describes how young and beautiful maidens were kept in their rooms for protection during the height of the avocado season.

Avocado production in San Diego was strong in the 1900s, occupying the third position in the top agricultural produce along with tomatoes, celery, strawberries, artichokes, etc. which were harvested perhaps with the great contributions by Japanese-American and Mexican-American farm workers.

Tuesday, July 28, 2015


My son, who lives in New York, took the trouble to airfreight me Richard Reeves’ Infamy, a 340 page book newly published by Henry Holt & Co. The subtitle reads “The Shocking Story of the Japanese American Internment in World War II.” This is the first book Joanne Oppenheim’s Dear Miss Breed is quoted extensively. I was happy to find Clara Breed’s photo in the book. She was the children’s librarian at the San Diego Public Library, who met hundreds of young Japanese-Americans and during the internment years, she sent them letters, books, and gifts. I saw names and letters of many 'Breed’s children' - Louise Ogawa, Katherine Tasaki, Margaret Ishino, Fusa and Yukio Tsumagari, Ted Hirasaki, Hisako Watanabe. Now all these names will be remembered as unjustly incarcerated internees who endured and lived with grace despite the harsh circumstances during a sad period in American history.

I myself befriended Clara Breed when she served as volunteer secretary for the San Diego Japanese Friendship Garden Planning Board (SDJFPB) without knowing her background at all. I was so shocked to see her obituary and found out who she was upon my return to Japan.

Sitting with me at the SDJFPB were Joe and Elizabeth Yamada, members of the 'Breed children' whom I contacted asking about some of the children’s letters that were sent to and saved by Clara Breed from Poston, Arizona. As per Elizabeth Yamada, they had been entrusted with the Japanese American National Museum (JANM) in Los Angeles. I visited JANM from Japan and copied some handwritten letters. Elizabeth Yamada then introduced me to Ted Hirasaki and Ben Segawa in San Diego. At JANM, I met Babe Karasawa who was serving as a volunteer docent. Soon I heard from my San Diego friends that Joanne Oppenheim had started interviewing the 'Breed children' with the intent of writing a book, suggesting that I wait for her book.

Oppenheim's book was well worth waiting for and inspired me to translate it into Japanese. One of my motivations for the translation was to make Japanese children aware of historical events. Oppenheim added court testimonies so that voices of internists from cities other than San Diego could be included. She toiled to try to cover over 10 relocation camps by quoting 1) Mrs. Roosevelt's diaries and 2) nationwide court testimonies. I’m glad that today, most of the Japanese municipal libraries and junior and senior high school libraries carry my Dear Miss Breed translation as I so aimed.

As a professional historian, Richard Reeves documented numerous narrative stories from ten relocation centers, making this book a very comprehensive compilation to date for all camp sites in seven States – California, Idaho, Utah, Wyoming, Arizona, Colorado and Arkansas.

The following two stories from Infamy were particularly memorable to me.

The 1942 valedictorian of the University of California, Berkeley, Harvey Itano, was in the Sacramento Assembly Center on his graduation day. "Harvey cannot be with us today," said university president Robert Gordon Sproul. He continued, "His country has called him elsewhere," which was behind barbed wire (Page 81). I became acquainted with Dr. Itano, a La Jolla resident, with whom I played golf often. He was a great golfer.

By mid-summer Isamu Noguchi realized he was having a lot of trouble adjusting to life in the camp. He set up an Arts and Handcraft Center in Poston but no one came. He had a lot of trouble communicating with his fellow residents. "I am extremely despondent for lack of companionship," he wrote to John Collier in Washington, "The Nisei here are not of my own age and are of an entirely different background and interest." Noguchi's name is mentioned in Dear Miss Breed. Noguchi left Poston when the army allowed him leave. Isamu Noguchi was in Poston for 184 days. He wrote to his half sister Ailes "Please let my friends know that I am on my way. I feel like Rip Van Winkle" (Page 129).

As the author wrote, the Japanese Americans in Hawaii were mostly exempt from being sent to internment camps except hundreds of them were closely watched by the FBI. Sand Island, a 5-acre island of coral in Honolulu, used to quarantine ships believed to carry contagious passengers in the nineteenth century, served as a location for a camp but the detainees were later sent to the 160-acre Honouliuli Camp in Oahu to join other German, Italian and Korean detainees. The Honouliuli Camp was designated earlier this year by President Obama as a National Park. It seems that each island had similar facilities of its own. The Big Island camp was at the Kilauea Military Camp (KMC), which was located in the volcano area, according to my friend Ron Takata who lives there.

Monday, July 20, 2015

Chester Beatty's Collections

Genius can assert itself at an early age. As a teen boy, Chester Beatty (1875 - 1968) liked to collect colorful stones and minerals. One day his father took him to a big auction held on Broadway in New York. Sitting in the front row they saw a fragment of mineral calcite with a shade of pink overlaid with crystals of apatite, a perfect formation sparkled in what little light infiltrated the smoky atmosphere. In response to the auctioneer’s request for a bid, the boy raised his ‘ten cents’ bid. The boyish tense voice reverberated and froze the room for a moment. Despite the eccentric price, no other bid was offered when they found the boy was serious. The auctioneer hammered his gavel, announcing, “The boy beat us all.” It was the first treasure Chester won in his life.

He continued his hobby when he enrolled at Columbia University School of Mines. He started out as a $2 a day mucker and rose to be the King of Copper in Colorado, and was a millionaire by his mid-30s. He was later inducted in the National Mining Hall of Fame and Museum in Leadville, Colorado. While keeping his interests in mining, he left the U.S. with his family and became a naturalized British citizen in 1933, traveling to Africa often, partly to ease his respiratory spells from his younger days laboring in the mines.

Beatty’s propensity for collecting minerals, stamps, Chinese Snuff Bottles, etc. expanded greatly with his added passion for books and manuscripts. Along with the finding of his northern Rhodesian copper belts, he sought Egyptian Papyrus Texts, Biblical and Qur’an Archives, Oriental arts and artifacts, ending up holding one of the foremost personal collections of Ancient Art, Culture and Literature in World History.

Though Beatty received knighthood after WWII for his significant contributions to the Allied War Effort for supplying strategic raw materials, he was disillusioned with the Labour Party’s bureaucratic policies and relocated to Dublin and decided to donate his treasures to Ireland. In 1957 Beatty became Ireland’s first honorary citizen and upon his death in 1968 was accorded a State Funeral.

In celebration of his 125th birthday, Chester Beatty’s Library opened in 2000 on the grounds of Dublin Castle.

Prominently included in this Ireland Library is the “Eternal Love” picture story of Yang Guihei, by Japanese artist Sansetsu Kano (1589-1651), inspired by Bai Juyi, Chinese poet of 9th Century. Oh, what treasures he preserved for mankind!

Article from Irish Arts Review - "An Edo Masterwork Restored: The Chogonka Scrolls in The Chester Beatty Library, Dublin"

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Song of Eternal Love

"You and I have often visited this temple
When I once resided near this summit
Pond showed its bottom only when water got cleared
Tunnel gate opened when white clouds got broken
We kindled fire raking fallen maple leaves to warm Sake (*)
We mulled over poems scraping mossed stones.(*)
And you leave me at this best chrysanthemum flowering season!"

So sang Tang Dynasty poet Bai Juyi (772-846), in sending his friend away. Unlike his contemporaries Li Bai, Du Fu and others, Bai Juyi is known for his direct, easy to understand and good-hearted poems and for this reason he has had many ardent followers in Japan, including myself. The above (*) marked lines were my favorite quotes from his poem. I saw his 120 lines, each line seven-worded “Song of Eternal Love” written on a monument when I traveled to Xi’an, China. There, at the foot of suburban Lishan, stood Emperor Xuanzong’s (685-762) Huaqing Detached Palace, where his beloved Yang Guifei (719-756) resided. Bai Juyi sang the poem in 809, about 50 years after Yang Guifei was strangled by her confidant Gao Lisjhi, an eunuch official serving the Emperor. It was when Bai Juyi and his friends were promoted to Tang palace officials that they traveled together to the site of the tragedy. He was mandated to write a poem to immortalize Yang Guifei and he wholeheartedly responded with passion. The poem found its way to Japan and is said to be the inspiration for the 12th Century “Tale of Genji” by Murasaki Shikibu.

“The Emperor neglected the world from that moment,
Lavished his time on her in endless enjoyment.
She was his springtime mistress, and his midnight tyrant.
Though there were three thousand ladies, all of great beauty,
All his gifts were devoted to one person.”

"Li Palace rose high in the clouds.
The winds carried soft music notes,
Songs and graceful dances, string and pipe music.
He could never stop himself from gazing at her.”

“But the Earth reels, war drums fill East Pass,
drowning out the Feathered Coat and Rainbow Skirt,
Great Swallow Pagoda and Hall of Light
are bathed in dust - the army fleeing southwards,
Out there Imperial banners, wavering, pausing
until the river forty miles from West Gate,
the army suddenly stopped. No one would go forward,
until horses hooves trampled willow eyebrows.
Flower on a hairpin. No one to save it.
Gold and jade phoenix. No one to retrieve it.
Covering his face, the Emperor rode on.
Turned to look back at that place of tears,
Hidden by (a) yellow dust whirl (in) a cold wind.”

A rebellion took place and An Lushan invaded Xi’an. The Emperor had to flee, protected by his guards, but soldiers sabotaged demanding life of Yang Guifei , a ruinous beauty. The Emperor had no choice but to hand her over. Oddly enough, An Lushan was close to both the Emperor and Yang Guifei, allying himself to become an adopted son of Yang, acquiesced by the Emperor. As the Commander of Hebei, Henan and Hedong, General Lushan had ambitions for the Chancellor post, but the position was snatched by Yang Guozhong, cousin of Yang Guifei, with whom Lushan developed hostilities. Guozhong spread word of Lushan’s treason and he was eventually trapped. Lushan, a Persian-Turkish mix, was reported to be a chubby and jolly man, played jester, and danced well whirling a pole for the Emperor. Yang Guifei and Lushan both played the Ney flute. The Emperor returned to Xi’an after the rebellion was subdued. Back at the palace, however, his heart was still full of grief and attachment, and he sent Tao priest to the nether world. The Tao priest brought back her love message to him:

“Of vows which had been known only to their two hearts:
On the 7th day of the 7th month, in the Palace of Long Life,
We told each other secretly in the quiet midnight world
‘In the heavens we shall be
as twin birds flying side by side;
on earth, trees with their branches intertwined.’
Heaven is everlasting and the earth endures,
while the grief shall be ever abiding.”

Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Captain Armour

Chigusaso, Nakacho 2-27
I didn’t believe what my friend said:
“The dormitory is still there and in use.
Take a walk in the morning and a good look.”
I roved the area over an hour.
I searched.
There remained no vestiges of my 40 year old memories.
When I met my friend, I told him I found nothing.
“I’ll take you there” he replied.
He led the way without waiting for my response.
There! There stood the two-story dorm, aged but gallant,
monstrous - ugly, under the dim pole light.
I visualized without stepping inside:
ten identical six-mat rooms facing each other across the corridor,
the communal wash stand and neighboring stall entrance.
The dorm, a home for 80 boys, two sharing each room,
fresh out of school, away from home from their homelands and families.
Gathering to work for the same company and destiny.
I heard the hollers and laughter from the hallways,
the loud yawns, coughs, and pounding, dragging slipper sounds,
the noisy off-work weekends when some prepared joint meals
(so-called caterers), others busy with laundry.
Where are they now after 40 years?
What happened to the camraderie
they thought they had established?
What happened to the ambitions they avowed and burned?

from Magee Park Poets Anthology 1998, Carlsbad, California
Poem by Rio Imamura

My first job was with a medium sized but well-reputed manufacturer of high-tech electric/electronic instruments in Musashino, in suburban Tokyo. It was 10 years after the end of World War II and Japan was about to enter into the budding postwar industrial miracle but we were not quite there yet. Newly hired in that year were just 10 graduates, including me. Luckily I was paired into a dorm flat with the famous Keio Rugger (rugby player). This dorm was located a few blocks away from the plant. The occupants in the dorm used the company dining cafeteria from morning to evening. All we had to care for were ourselves during the weekends, either dependent on delivery service in the neighborhood or cook ourselves in ‘buddy’ groups, or go out to some fancy restaurants in Shinjuku once a month or so.

Toda-san was a dorm-mate at the above Chigusa-so. One day, he brought Captain Armour to work where we established the English Speaking Club where we met on the off-work hours. Toda-san was an excellent photographer and acquainted with the captain during his picture taking field trip. The club had about 20 members who met and shared an interest in speaking English. The captain was with the Far East Air Material Command Station (FEAMCOM) at Tachikawa Air Base (decommissioned in the late 1980s and currently a multi-purpose recreational Showa Park, which includes an authentic Japanese garden). He was a dandy-looking chap and a pious Christian who enjoyed photography as a hobby, sharing a common interest with Toda-san. Captain Armour took time out of his busy schedule to join us often and brought his family once year to celebrate Christmas.

In the late 1950s, I started going on overseas business trips, including the U.S., and had several occasions to meet with the Captain and his family, who were reassigned back to Los Angeles. When I wrote my Latin American travelog, I dedicated it to the Armours who agreed to provide his foreword to the travelog. His foreword read as follows:

"Most people are destined to spend a lifetime within the borders of their own country and it is only through the eyes of others that they may see far away lands. Rio Imamura shares his recent South American travels with us in this booklet. Each page is an adventure into new and interesting places, where we learn of people who are living lives so different from ours. In our short time on this earth, many changes have been wrought among men and nations. Let us hope that the people of South America may someday share the abundance and freedom, which you and I now enjoy."

After his retirement, the Armours relocated to Grand Pass, Oregon. Although we had kept in touch while I was in the U.S., I had not seen them for 30 years. I missed them so much that I visited them before I retired and left San Diego for Japan. I was told Toda-san had visited him on his business trips to the U.S.

After entering the 2000s, I heard Captain Armour was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease and was under intensive family care. In 2011, a sad note came from Mrs. Armour that he passed away. For his funeral service, five children assembled - two sons were from overseas where they spent over 25 years, Steve from Brazil and Kris from the UK. The eldest, Phil, worked and retired from the U.S. Forest Service and had two daughters, Lynn and Leslie. Both were happily married and raised their families locally. The Armours are blessed with 12 grandchildren.

Captain Armour embodied our admiration of the U.S. and the promise of tomorrow for young Japanese men. He showed us by leading a radiant life. May he rest in peace.

Both Toda-san and Captain Armour appeared in a previous entry.

Monday, June 15, 2015

“Vedi Fujisan e poi muori!” (“See Fujisan and Die”)

The former Prime Minister Nakasone was said to have confided to his aide that he would not leave this world until he saw Mt. Fuji inscribed by UNESCO as a World Heritage Center. Nakasone was presiding over the “National Congress” that was petitioning the campaign. It was in 2013 that Mt. Fuji finally got its cultural heritage designation, relieving Nakasone’s anxieties. The naturally majestic Fujisan does not really need it. Fujisan has been overly abused to date and I’m afraid the UNESCO designation might attract more climbers from overseas to aggravate the situation.

There is a legend, supported by the records of ancient Chinese “Shi-Chi” about a Chinese explorer named Xu Fu who journeyed twice to the eastern seas to look for the elixir of life between 219 BC and 210 BC on behalf of Qin Shi Huang. On each trip, Xu Fu was accompanied by thousands of crew, craftsmen of various fields, boys and girls. However, he did not return from his second journey and it is believed that he perished in Yamato (Japan), after traveling near Mt. Fuji. Xu Fu is enshrined at the foot of the mountain and around the nearby lakes.

I’ll give a quick overview of Fujisan’s cultural heritage:

When I’m walking along the Tago Coast
I can see the snow falling on the lofty peak of Mt. Fuji.

- from the most ancient Anthology of Japanese poems (8th Century)
So sung the poet Akahito Yamanobe. He is enshrined in the East Omi, near Biwa Lake, in Western Japan.

Lady Sarashina, born in Soshu Province, now a part of Chiba, in the early 1000s traveled to Kyoto with her father, Takasue Sugawara, governor of the province. The Mt. Fuji she saw from Soshu looked more dignified and awesome as she approached. She wrote in her diary that the smoke near the top which glowed after dark and the thick cover of unmelted snow gave the impression that it wore a white jacket over a dress of deep violet. The Tale of Genji, the first novel in the history of world literature, written by the Court Lady Purple, was her favorite book while in Kyoto.


Mt. Fuji became the ground of mountaineering asceticism during the Ashikaga period (1300-1500). In the middle of the Edo period (after 1600), people began making pilgrimage ascents of Mt. Fuji. Shintoists consider the peak sacred to the goddess Sakuya, while the Buddhists believe the mountain is the gateway to a different world. Their wishes included recovery from illness, good harvest, easy childbirth, stability of heart, etc. Reverence and admiration for the mountain was soon depicted in many ‘Ukiyo-e’ woodblock prints by Hiroshige and Hokusai, both completing their respective “36 views of Fujisan” since Mt. Fuji could be then seen from everywhere in Edo. Hokusai’s “Red Fuji” and the “Great Wave at Kanagawa” influenced many western artists.


In the Meiji era (after 1868), Taikan Yokoyama worked almost exclusively on Mt. Fuji. His “Mr. Fuji and soaring crane” is now printed on the back of the Japanese 1,000 yen note. Contemporary Nihonga artist Tamako Kataoka (1905-2008) left many Fujisan works. She wrote: When I stood in front of Fujisan and looked, it seemed to be saying ‘you’re not depicting me, you are not looking at me, you haven’t captured the height nor the mass. What are you looking at? Be sure that you portray me properly”. I found Tamako’s conversation with Mt. Fuji intriguing, as I associated it with “100 views of Mt. Fuji”, a novel written by Osamu Dazai (1909-1949). The writer cooped up for three months in 1938 at Misaka Pass directly facing Mt. Fuji every day and night. His lines on Mt. Fuji began with harsh slanders against the Hiroshige and Hokusai’s artistic distortions, but turned gradually to marvelous expressions of attachment. He left after regaining his strength to live, thoroughly charmed by the glamorous Diva Fuji.

The photographic medium brought totally new artistic dimensions, especially with the accelerated development of hi-tech cameras. Fuji Albums of Koyo Okada (1895-1972) dominated works by professionals as well as amateurs. On each and every New Year, hundreds of climbers / photographers compete to take better shots. My old photographer friend Todasan returns to Mt. Fuji whenever he finds time, so I consider him a Fuji specialist and I hereby wish to salute him for the photos of Mt. Fuji he gave to me as gifts, which I wish to share with you, with his permission. They are all superb shots and I’m really very proud of him.