The journey begins with a text: "On the plane. Love u much. Will call later." Two hours later, as the plane starts its descent into Birmingham, I notice in the distance the firey bursts of a thunderstorm. The flash of lightening is surprisingly frequent. In fact, it seems to come in an ordered pattern, lighting up the same cloud formations in regular intervals. I wonder what city it is hovering over and continue to observe, mesmerized, until we disappear into a light cloud cover. Upon deplaning I am met by a blast of the oppressive heat I remember feeling on my last visit 30 years before. I had traveled with my mom to sit at my paternal grandmother's bedside as she lay dying of cancer.
I head for baggage claim, worried that I need to visit the rental car desk before it closes. I have not yet reserved a vehicle for my trip to Montgomery and Selma. I exit the terminal steeling myself once more against the hot breath of the Birmingham evening and start quickly across the street toward the rental car companies. A man straddling the median sees me and says, "You must be in a hurry to get home." I tell him I am a visitor in need of a car. He gives me the thumbs up and chuckles, "Do whatcha got ta do!" I am charmed and set at ease by this exchange.
After being told to reserve a car over the phone, I return to ground transportation to call the hotel shuttle. It is then that I realize I have not picked up my checked luggage. I return to baggage claim just in time to retrieve my bags. I am ready to begin the next phase of Red Dirt. Text: "Just landed. The journey and adventure begins..."
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
The Curious Matter of Uncle Soo
My great-grandfather Nihei Uyeno had two wives. Chiyono (Ushijima) Uyeno, was his second wife and my grandmother's mother. Together they had seven children, five of whom helped to grow the Uyeno clan. His first wife Suda, who for some reason is listed on the family tree by maiden name only, died at the age of 24 leaving Nihei with two sons, Satoru and Masaru. Masasu is an Uyeno. Satoru is a Soo (long "O").
As I remember the story, told to me by my grandmother, Satoru Soo had a different last name because he was given away at a young age to a family with no children. I loved that story because it sounded poetic, like it came straight from historical literature. I often wondered how he felt being given the responsibility of carrying on someone elses name by no choice of his own. Did he want to be a Soo? Was the Soo family kind to him? Was he ever able to see his father and brother? Did he miss them desperately, particularly after losing his mother?
When I would think on the story, I saw the vivid image of a young, cherub-faced boy with sunburned cheeks walking alone through the red dirt of the cane fields at Makaweli camp. I felt the hot, dry heat of Kauai's West side on the back of his neck as he looked toward the roaring Pacific in the far horizon. I heard the lonely cries of the shakuhachi as it moaned for the solitary boy who longed to return to his papa.
Well, scratch that, as this week I was introduced to several other, more practical versions of the tale. My mother, who also got the scoop from my grandmother, thought Uncle Soo took the name of someone who had no children but was not given away. My mother's cousin Matsuko, thought Soo took the name of an "auntie," who may or may not have been blood. She too did not think he was given away because she had memories of him interacting with the family. Uncle John, whose father was Soo's brother Masaru wasn't sure of what happened either. But he definitely stayed in the immediate family.
There were others with versions of the Uncle Soo story as well. The common thread was that everyone was sure he was carrying on the name of a family without children, everyone was sure he was not given away and nobody knew who the Soos were.
Sometimes, the solution to a mystery is closer than one thinks. After spending the week wringing our hands, wracking our brains and telling and retelling our versions of the curious matter of Uncle Soo, my mom gets an idea: why not call his grandaughter Karen. Duh.
Karen told the story she got straight from the horse's mouth. Her "jichan" (grandfather) said that "Soo" was the name of a blood auntie who had no children. He took her name so it could be carried on. He was not given away but stayed with his father, brother, stepmother and half siblings.
While the story may not have the same dramatic effect that it has held for me all these years, its still an interesting one. And the mystery has not been totally solved. We still do not know exactly who Soo is. And as for carrying on his auntie's name, Uncle Soo had seven children, five of whom gave him grandchildren. These grandchildren also had many children and today the Soo side of the Uyeno clan is the largest. If anything, Uncle Soo was definitely the right guy for the job.
As I remember the story, told to me by my grandmother, Satoru Soo had a different last name because he was given away at a young age to a family with no children. I loved that story because it sounded poetic, like it came straight from historical literature. I often wondered how he felt being given the responsibility of carrying on someone elses name by no choice of his own. Did he want to be a Soo? Was the Soo family kind to him? Was he ever able to see his father and brother? Did he miss them desperately, particularly after losing his mother?
When I would think on the story, I saw the vivid image of a young, cherub-faced boy with sunburned cheeks walking alone through the red dirt of the cane fields at Makaweli camp. I felt the hot, dry heat of Kauai's West side on the back of his neck as he looked toward the roaring Pacific in the far horizon. I heard the lonely cries of the shakuhachi as it moaned for the solitary boy who longed to return to his papa.
Well, scratch that, as this week I was introduced to several other, more practical versions of the tale. My mother, who also got the scoop from my grandmother, thought Uncle Soo took the name of someone who had no children but was not given away. My mother's cousin Matsuko, thought Soo took the name of an "auntie," who may or may not have been blood. She too did not think he was given away because she had memories of him interacting with the family. Uncle John, whose father was Soo's brother Masaru wasn't sure of what happened either. But he definitely stayed in the immediate family.
There were others with versions of the Uncle Soo story as well. The common thread was that everyone was sure he was carrying on the name of a family without children, everyone was sure he was not given away and nobody knew who the Soos were.
Sometimes, the solution to a mystery is closer than one thinks. After spending the week wringing our hands, wracking our brains and telling and retelling our versions of the curious matter of Uncle Soo, my mom gets an idea: why not call his grandaughter Karen. Duh.
Karen told the story she got straight from the horse's mouth. Her "jichan" (grandfather) said that "Soo" was the name of a blood auntie who had no children. He took her name so it could be carried on. He was not given away but stayed with his father, brother, stepmother and half siblings.
While the story may not have the same dramatic effect that it has held for me all these years, its still an interesting one. And the mystery has not been totally solved. We still do not know exactly who Soo is. And as for carrying on his auntie's name, Uncle Soo had seven children, five of whom gave him grandchildren. These grandchildren also had many children and today the Soo side of the Uyeno clan is the largest. If anything, Uncle Soo was definitely the right guy for the job.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
