COMPOSER AND PIANIST SHARON MINEMOTO CHANNELS FAMILY MEMORY AND HISTORY ON GOODBYE, STRAWBERRY HILL, VIA CELLAR MUSIC

At age 17, my mother’s sister, Keiko was left in Canada to keep their newly married sister, Akiko, company. Akiko and her husband lived in Vernon, BC while Keiko boarded with family friends in Lillooet, BC. My grandparents were devastated to learn that these “friends” were functioning alcoholics who abused Keiko. Somehow Keiko remained resilient, all while holding down multiple jobs. Multiple jobs meant more money so her abusers raised the price of her room and board. Keiko secretly took a babysitting job until she had enough money to escape. Despite having to endure so much, my aunt remained thoughtful and kind just as she is today at age 97.

Keiko shipped much needed supplies to her parents and included boxes of Rosebud chocolates. The kids anticipated these parcels with delight and would savour their allotment of 2 Rosebuds after dinner. This tune is influenced by Keiko’s positive attitude and conjures images of the kids dancing around savouring the chocolates in their mouths!

When I tried to imagine my grandfather, Sunawa, during his internment, I picture him and his fellow prisoners meditating in order to maintain their strength and to get them through each day.

Assuming funerals were not held in internment camps, I offer “Eulogy” for my grandfather. My dad was only age 7 when he last saw his father. The short song form represents the few words my dad and his siblings would have had to say about a father they barely knew. The piano accompaniment mimics the mournful sound of sirens when my grandfather’s family was bombed in Japan and the despair he must have felt being trapped in Canada, unable to help them.

In Japan, a er-school bullying and beatings from classmates happened regularly for both my parents. Leaving Canada with so little money, they could not afford to try to blend in, so they were easy targets in their western style clothing. Whether in Canada or Japan, there was no way to avoid discrimination.

My mother’s family’s journey to Japan was not easy. Conditions on the ship were poor. Men were kept on the lower decks, separated from their wives and children who were on the upper decks. The rough waters brought on seasickness and the travellers worried about the unknown circumstances they were heading to.

When the US bombed Hiroshima my father’s family was living on the island of Toyoshima, just 57kms away. My dad described seeing a bright flash of light followed by black leaf-like ashes falling from the sky.

As a child, my ears were mesmerized by the beautiful melody that came from a record we had of “Akatombo” (Red Dragonfly). The song’s storyteller longingly recalls his childhood, watching red dragonflies at sunset while being carried on the back of an older sister. Dragonflies symbolize change and transformation in BC First Nations culture. The Japanese associate dragonflies with samurai warriors and their values of strength, courage and victory. Through luck, I landed when and where I did in my family’s history. “Dragonfly” blends the symbolism of the first inhabitants of Canada and my Japanese roots.

After the death of his father and older brother, it became my father’s responsibility to support the family. He worked day jobs and an ended school at night. He was in grade 12 when his mother announced her surprise engagement to a new man who had health problems. Angry with her for bringing more challenges to their household, my father decided to leave. By this time the Canadian government permitted Japanese Canadians to return to Canada. My dad heard of a ship that would sail to BC and although he had not yet finished high school he took the opportunity to leave. Once back in Canada he worked hard, eventually saving enough money for his younger brother, Hiroshi, to join him.