AYABE​,​ Taka

I came to America after getting married, but my husband didn’t have time to travel with me, so he came first and I followed later, by myself. Yes, I came alone. It was an Osaka Shosen ship — one of the large ones at that time, about 10,000 tons, I think. My husband worked in Seattle at the Farmers Market, selling vegetables and fruit grown by Japanese farmers. He had his own stall and managed it all by himself. I didn’t have to struggle much in those days, so I don’t remember everything clearly, but everyone was getting by fairly well. Most of the Japanese people who came to America then came for money. They signed contracts, worked hard, saved as much as they could, and planned to go back to Japan. After being here for two or three years, I got divorced. I’ve lived in America ever since. My father didn’t want me to go to America, but I was determined to see it. I said I would go for three years and then come back — but I ended up staying all this time. In 1926, I went back to Japan. I lingered for about a year doing nothing in particular, and during that time my mother passed away. I couldn’t stand just drifting around without purpose, so even though everyone opposed it, I decided to return to America. When I left Japan that time, I hadn’t planned to come back to the U.S. again — but I did. In 1927, I came to America once more, and that time I never thought about returning to Japan. I came over as a student, forcing my way in with a student visa. I entered the University of Washington, but I didn’t study much. I wanted to go East, but at the time the laws were strict, so I couldn’t. Then, using my school vacation, I managed to go to Chicago and enrolled at the University of Chicago. I didn’t want to go back to Japan, so in 1929 I went to the immigration office in Chicago and obtained permanent residency. In 1938, I moved to New York. At that time there were about seven or eight hundred Japanese people in Chicago, but then a problem arose — something like a “Japanese issue” — and many left. The number dropped to around three hundred. I was a student then, and in Chicago I did nothing but study. My father, who dealt in dried bonito flakes, loved people. My older sister took after him. I think I’m more like my mother — maybe because I’ve lived alone for so long. I’m not very social. I find it hard to speak up in groups, even at parties. I can’t chatter easily, so people sometimes misunderstand me. I’ve been quiet since I was a child. But at home, I was bossy — I talked back to my parents and argued with my siblings, never losing an argument. I haven’t had much connection with Japan for a long time. I have one daughter, but I live alone now, comfortably and freely. I like America. My daughter, though, likes Japan. She was educated there, got a job there, and now works in Saitama as the director of a public health office. She’s divorced too, and I have one grandchild. Once a week, I take a painting class at the YMCA. I started after I retired, without knowing anything about art, so I worked hard — I didn’t want to lose to anyone. I don’t dislike anything; I eat everything. I have a sweet tooth — I love desserts. I don’t know what the secret to long life is. I just eat everything because I think it must all have some kind of nourishment. My father was a fishmonger, but I didn’t eat much fish growing up. I do like sashimi, and I especially like grilled fish. This portrait is part of the DMHJNY's new exhibit Issei: Portraits Of The First-Generation Japanese New Yorkers which is on view here: https://www.historyofjapaneseinny.org/issei/