The phone rang late yesterday afternoon just as I’d decided to postpone my weekly shopping for another day, unwilling to face the crowded aisles of the stores. It was the framing shop, telling me my artwork, purchased while I was in Okinawa, was framed and ready for pick-up. It took only seconds for me to drop everything I was doing, hop in the car and drive to the mall. I returned, oblivious to anything except getting my print, a colored woodblock by Japanese artist Hiroshi Gima, and famous for his body of work depicting the life and traditions of Okinawa.
(Hiroshi Gima, woodcut, “Woman from Okinawa”)
I drove straight home and spent the rest of the afternoon hanging, then admiring Gima’s woodcut. It was my second, the first acquired during the fall of 2013, when I first saw his work. On the suggestion of a friend, I visited the small shop in Naha where the owner, an elder Okinawan woman conversed in Japanese in my daughter while carefully showing me several prints. I choose one of an Okinawan boy and carried it home. This trip, when Claire asked me what I wanted to see or do, I had three requests: 1) to spend as much time as possible with my grandchildren, 2) to tag along with her as she traveled the island to teach, and 3) to return to the shop to see Gima’s prints again. All three requests were honored, and my only purchase on the trip was a another small woodcut.
What is it about mementos–whatever form they take? With them, we carry back the memories of our travels, the remembrances of special times. Among my mementos from three trips to Okinawa are a pair of Shisa dogs believed to protect one from evils, a small pottery vase, and a salt charm to ensure my safe travel home, all gifts given from my daughter’s friends. This morning I sat and studied the newly framed art and recalled the graciousness of the shopkeeper, her quiet pride in showing me Gima’s woodcuts, and how she repeatedly thanked me and wished me a safe journey home, bowing respectfully as I left the shop.
It’s been nearly two weeks since I returned to San Diego, my heart full, yet reluctant to re-enter the pace and culture that is Southern California. I think of all I experienced in Okinawa often, and in small ways, try to capture remnants of what was so meaningful into my daily life here–things like simplicity, gratitude for a simple meal, carefully prepared and artistically presented, the kindness, shared laughter and warmth of Claire’s Okinawan friends, the respect I continually witnessed for elders.
I spent one joyful afternoon at a senior day care program where my daughter volunteers each month. Among the group, all over 85 years old, were three centenarians, and of these, the oldest was 103. We sat in a circle as , they practiced simple English conversation, “How are you?” “It is nice to see you,” together with Claire, laughing at their mistakes and, because I was a newcomer to the group, showing far more interest in me, my age, and how I cared for my skin! Afterwards, they cheered me on as I tried my hand at writing my name in Kanji—much more difficult than I imagined. I left smiling and grateful for the experience, hoping I will share as much laughter and respect with others in my elder years.
That afternoon is one part of what I carried home, along with a gift of Kanji script, to remind me of the senior center, the fun and happiness I experienced. It’s no wonder that Okinawans live longer than anyone else in the world! They also live better, with less heart disease, a fourth of the breast and prostate cancers, and lower rates of dementia. While diet certainly is a factor—many Okinawans grow their own food–there’s more. It’s something called“Ikagi,” which translated means “that which makes one’s life worth living.” Craig Wilcox, author of the Okinawa Centenarian Study suggests that elder Okinawans’ strong sense of purpose may act as a buffer against stress and disease.
Laughter, joy, a sense of humor, the way that gratitude and respect infuse each day—a sense of a reason to keep on living–this is what I want to remember, what I want to retain, and what, I suppose, the small things carried home from Okinawa remind me of. Whether memento or talisman, there are memories and stories in the objects I cherish. They act as triggers, as reminders, as a way to remember the people and events so important in my life. They may even, as I hope they will, remind me of the ways I want to live well into my elder years!
This week, find an object from one of your trips, a special event, a time in your life where you overcame an obstacle, or something given to you by a grandparent or long ago friend. Study it. What memories does it evoke? Why do you keep it? Tell its story.
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