One of the Happiest Days of My Life
One of the best days of my life was when, in 1948, around the time of my fourth birthday,, my cousin Arthur came back from Occupied Japan.
My cousin Eleanor, Arthur's older sister, and her two daughters, my cousins Joanne and Robin, who were around my age, and my mother, all went down to meet his Navy ship in San Pedro, CA, a long trip before freeways.
We were all very excited. We kids had only seen Arthur in a photograph but we knew he'd been in "the War," and now he was coming home. That, at least according to us, made him a real hero, and we were quite sure he was at least as brave as Audie Murphy.
There were thousands of people waiting there as the ship docked. They lowered the gangplank and began calling names over a loudspeaker.
We were disappointed as we realized, and Eleanor explained, that they were calling names alphabetically and our cousin was a J. So we waited, a bit impatiently but also enjoying all the other excited, happy people listening for that one special name, that special person, who had survived the biggest war in human history and was, miraculously, coming back to them. A lot of mothers held up photos so their small children would know what Daddy looked like.
Finally, the loudspeaker called out, "Arthur Julian!" We kids jumped up and down with excitement as Arthur came down the gangplank carrying a huge overstuffed Navy duffel bag, his eyes searching the crowd for US, his family. Suddenly, as we shouted out his name, "Cousin Arthur!" "Uncle Arthur!" he saw us and ran toward us. The crowd parted joyfully creating a path for him to run through. As he reached us, everyone applauded, sharing a bit of our welcome.
I was very relieved that he didn't look like a human skeleton, like some of the men we knew in our neighborhood who had suffered in Japanese prison camps. He looked strong and healthy. A smile took up most of his face. He embraced his sister as she cried with joy, saying, "HI Sis. Don't cry, I'm home now!" Then he hugged us and opened his duffel bag.
Years later he told me that in Japan he had only packed one change of underwear, his PJ'S and a toothbrush. Everything else in the duffel were presents for us. First, he gave each of us little girls a doll, a special Japanese doll wearing a satin kimono. I was thrilled. I had never seen a doll so beautiful, and so unusual. It was truly something special and one of the best gifts I ever received. As I thanked Arthur, I asked him if the people there were really that beautiful. He said they were and also added how nice and kind they were to him during his stay. I had not heard one good thing about the Japanese in my young life at that point. But Arthur told me that war brings out the worst in people, but now the War was over so we didn't need to hate the Japanese people any more. I loved my doll and had it until I was 11 years old (when my mother told me I was too old for dolls and took it away). Then Arthur brought out a lot of other gifts. He had some Japanese style plates wrapped in towels which he gave to Eleanor who loved fine porcelain. She was thrilled. He also had some Japanese dresses for us three little girls. I don't know how he knew our sizes but later we found the dresses fit perfectly.
My mother drove us home to where Eleanor lived in an apartment in Hollywood. While Arthur had been gone, Eleanor had gotten married to a man named Harry, the father of my two little cousins. He had to work that day, but was home in their apartment when we arrived. We all climbed the stairs together and found my cousin Harry taking a nap on the living room couch. He woke up, jumped to his feet and hugged his brother-in-law Arthur and Arthur hugged back. Then Eleanor brought out a cake she had baked and sliced it and put it on her new Japanese porcelain plates for us.
We sat on a balcony together in folding chairs and ate the cake, admiring the stylized Japanese cherry blossoms on the plates. Arthur told us how happy he was to be home. He said he had been a very lucky man; almost all the bullets had missed him. He had suffered the sad loss of friends but had come home with only one small scar in his arm and a Purple Heart. We little girls were very impressed when he took the medal out to show us. Wow! A real medal! Just like Audie Murphy!
There have been few days in my life as exciting or happy as that one. I had spent a good part of the day surrounded by thousands of overjoyed people, had witnessed many embraces and welcomes. I was happy and it seemed as if the whole world was happy with me. Those who might have never come home had made it back home to their loved ones and it really doesn't get any better than that. And I didn't even have to hate the Japanese anymore; Cousin Arthur said so, the word of a decorated war hero, so it had to be true. I had a beautiful doll as well and I loved her better than any other doll I had ever had, or would have. Every time I hugged her, I remembered that day and my memories matched up well with her sweet and exotic beauty.
My cousin Eleanor, Arthur's older sister, and her two daughters, my cousins Joanne and Robin, who were around my age, and my mother, all went down to meet his Navy ship in San Pedro, CA, a long trip before freeways.
We were all very excited. We kids had only seen Arthur in a photograph but we knew he'd been in "the War," and now he was coming home. That, at least according to us, made him a real hero, and we were quite sure he was at least as brave as Audie Murphy.
There were thousands of people waiting there as the ship docked. They lowered the gangplank and began calling names over a loudspeaker.
We were disappointed as we realized, and Eleanor explained, that they were calling names alphabetically and our cousin was a J. So we waited, a bit impatiently but also enjoying all the other excited, happy people listening for that one special name, that special person, who had survived the biggest war in human history and was, miraculously, coming back to them. A lot of mothers held up photos so their small children would know what Daddy looked like.
Finally, the loudspeaker called out, "Arthur Julian!" We kids jumped up and down with excitement as Arthur came down the gangplank carrying a huge overstuffed Navy duffel bag, his eyes searching the crowd for US, his family. Suddenly, as we shouted out his name, "Cousin Arthur!" "Uncle Arthur!" he saw us and ran toward us. The crowd parted joyfully creating a path for him to run through. As he reached us, everyone applauded, sharing a bit of our welcome.
I was very relieved that he didn't look like a human skeleton, like some of the men we knew in our neighborhood who had suffered in Japanese prison camps. He looked strong and healthy. A smile took up most of his face. He embraced his sister as she cried with joy, saying, "HI Sis. Don't cry, I'm home now!" Then he hugged us and opened his duffel bag.
Years later he told me that in Japan he had only packed one change of underwear, his PJ'S and a toothbrush. Everything else in the duffel were presents for us. First, he gave each of us little girls a doll, a special Japanese doll wearing a satin kimono. I was thrilled. I had never seen a doll so beautiful, and so unusual. It was truly something special and one of the best gifts I ever received. As I thanked Arthur, I asked him if the people there were really that beautiful. He said they were and also added how nice and kind they were to him during his stay. I had not heard one good thing about the Japanese in my young life at that point. But Arthur told me that war brings out the worst in people, but now the War was over so we didn't need to hate the Japanese people any more. I loved my doll and had it until I was 11 years old (when my mother told me I was too old for dolls and took it away). Then Arthur brought out a lot of other gifts. He had some Japanese style plates wrapped in towels which he gave to Eleanor who loved fine porcelain. She was thrilled. He also had some Japanese dresses for us three little girls. I don't know how he knew our sizes but later we found the dresses fit perfectly.
My mother drove us home to where Eleanor lived in an apartment in Hollywood. While Arthur had been gone, Eleanor had gotten married to a man named Harry, the father of my two little cousins. He had to work that day, but was home in their apartment when we arrived. We all climbed the stairs together and found my cousin Harry taking a nap on the living room couch. He woke up, jumped to his feet and hugged his brother-in-law Arthur and Arthur hugged back. Then Eleanor brought out a cake she had baked and sliced it and put it on her new Japanese porcelain plates for us.
We sat on a balcony together in folding chairs and ate the cake, admiring the stylized Japanese cherry blossoms on the plates. Arthur told us how happy he was to be home. He said he had been a very lucky man; almost all the bullets had missed him. He had suffered the sad loss of friends but had come home with only one small scar in his arm and a Purple Heart. We little girls were very impressed when he took the medal out to show us. Wow! A real medal! Just like Audie Murphy!
There have been few days in my life as exciting or happy as that one. I had spent a good part of the day surrounded by thousands of overjoyed people, had witnessed many embraces and welcomes. I was happy and it seemed as if the whole world was happy with me. Those who might have never come home had made it back home to their loved ones and it really doesn't get any better than that. And I didn't even have to hate the Japanese anymore; Cousin Arthur said so, the word of a decorated war hero, so it had to be true. I had a beautiful doll as well and I loved her better than any other doll I had ever had, or would have. Every time I hugged her, I remembered that day and my memories matched up well with her sweet and exotic beauty.
70-79, F
