Memories of Okinawa

The summer of 1980 was the first of 6 that we would spend in the enchanted land we called “home”. One thing you learn as the child of a military person is that they are really into playing mind games. What I mean is - when you do something bad, the way to make up is to do something good. Kind of a tit for tat mentality. Well, early in the summer of 1980 we were planning this trip to the “states” just me, my brother, and my sister. The parents were seeing visions of a couple weeks of “alone time”.

We went to Koza early in the summer and, this time was a little different. The girls, remember they were quite a lot older than we were, helped us to celebrate the ending of the school year and the beginning of the wonderful Okinawan summer. This night was the first, not the last, that I would drink a little too much. I drank so much that night my brother and the two of them had to push me up on the bus for the long ride home on the proverbial “last bus”. When we got to the bus stop where we get off, as the story went, my brother rolled me off the bus and somehow got me seated on the bench. He couldn’t carry me the two or so miles down the hill to the house so he was faced with calling the old man.

The old man had to get dressed and come pick us, or more accurately, to pick me up. I was in no condition to walk down that hill. I got grounded pretty quick and long for that episode. So, the games begin (I gotta make up the military way to decrease the terms of the grounding). First, I announce that I would quit smoking and would start training to run the Kinser 10K coming up in July. Now, the old man had always wanted athletic son, so he immediately agreed to my new endeavors. I started running 10 to 15 K every day. It was kinda, sorta like I wasn’t grounded. Running got me out of the house. Really couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything to get in trouble for, but it did provide at least a little solace.

I placed third the day of the run in my age group 16 to 18. I ran against quite a few Marines and still placed third. Dad was beyond proud. Took lots of pictures that day and actually lifted the grounding on the condition ……. (Oh, yeah!).

We, a couple weeks later, boarded a plane for our trip to the States. Layover in Hawaii - what a hoot! On to Dallas/Fort Worth, Drive to Oklahoma with a couple geezers to see some more geezers. Drive to Lousiana to stay with the first geezers for a week, then Back to DFW, board a plane don’t remember the trip back at all except for my baby sister losing her stuffed elephant (elefie). That was a very sad day.

The trip was a trip!

The school year is sorta winding down. At Kubasaki High the rainy season is in full swing. One has not lived unless one has made the trek from the 200 Building across the field to pass by the 100 building on the left and the auditorium and the cafeteria on the right, across the teachers parking lot (4 rows of cars), down the little (often muddy and slick) hill to the quonset huts a.k.a the 600s in the pouring monsoonal rains day after day after day.

Us smoking area folks never used umbrellas, they were not “cool”. So you could always tell when one of us entered the classroom cuz we were always drenched head to toe.  My homeroom was in the 600s area.  From there, I would walk to the 200s for a class, then at some point back to the 600s.  I wasn’t expecting the monsoons, as I wasn’t on island long enough to know what would come, so my schedule wasn’t worked out with this in mind (at the time I wish it had been).

The rain during the monsoon season was relentless.  It rained, and rained, and rained, and rained, then just as it started to clear, it rained some more.  The rainy season seemed to last forever.  All hours of the day and the night (I miss it today).  We learned to get around during the rainy season using umbrellas, because we did actually go out to the entertainment venues of Naha, Koza, the skating rink, and to the seawall even during this time.  It was an awesome experience to sit in the cave and watch the rain fall outside and listen to the ocean ebb and flow.  All this rain didn’t phase the Okinawans in the least.  They still went about their daily lives as if the sun were out.

The one thing I remember most about the rainy season was whenever you went into a store there was a little umbrella stand right inside the door.  Once you reached the awning over the door you would shake the water off your umbrella, walk into the store and simply drop your umbrella into the stand.  No locks, but, your umbrella was always there when you got ready to leave (Try that in this country - the US).  I never lost an umbrella in an umbrella stand in the 5 rainy seasons that I endured on island.

The rainy season brought the color out in the trees and on the ground.  The hibiscus would begin to bloom, the palm bushes and trees would flower new bright green leaves.  We had both right in the front yard and the springtime colors were amazing.   The rainy season must have been smaller than in other years, because water rationing would get started during this year about midway through the summer.  Let me tell you, water rationing is not a joke on Okinawa!

So, now it’s deep winter on Okinawa. That really means it’s a little better to wear long sleeves and jeans after dark. I had passed the driving test at the Kadena Driver’s Ed center and was ready to exercise my “on-base” driving privileges. They make sure that you do understand it is a privilege when you take drivers ed.

Now, just what the h#ll is a kid that lives off-post going to do with an on-post drivers license? In the beginning, not very much. Dad kinda liked to exude the aura of being anal about his family following the rules. Over time, like always, things would change.

Dad would let us load up in the car and he drove us down to the Camp Kinser Gate where he would hand over the car and walk back to the house. Now, me, my brother, and my sister would drive all the way across Camp Kinser and park the car at the last building on the left, walk out the gate and go to the skating rink. Dad always made sure he told me - Do no take this car off the base. After skating we would load up for the drive back, usually with a few more people so we could go down to the seawall to hang out for the balance of the night. You’ll here more about some of those nights later.

We would also accompany Mom and Dad to Kadena USO and every once in a while he would let us drive the car or the van and we would go to the bowling alley or the cafeteria. This business of Dad driving to the gate didn’t last very long maybe 30 days or so, deep inside he was kinda lazy and didn’t particularly like walking back to the house. So he sits me down and impresses the importance of obeying the traffic laws so I wouldn’t get caught going in and out the gate to the Base. Now, here we go. He’s really done it now.

Not only do I drive back and forth across Kinser on Friday and Saturday nights, we also start taking the car to our seawall parties. There was this one night, that really sticks out in my memory. Even Dad laughed about this night many, many times. One of his rules for me was that I was not to drink any alcohol when I had the car. He and I both knew that wasn’t going to fly at all. We had already caught the disease and there was no turning back at this point.

So, after a night of skating we all came back to the house. There was me, my brother, Steve Sawyer, Joe Waters, and probably some other folks. We tell my parents that we are going to the seawall. Well, we did, sort of.

There was this other seawall about a mile or two from the house and we all wanted to go to that one instead, so we did. It’s about 2 AM and we are all gettin’ pretty drunk at the seawall. Actually, we’re gettin really drunk. Music is blasting and we are really having a good time. Then I started the car and was playing around and driving around. You can’t tell a 16 year old drunk kid that this would be a mistake, though.

At this other seawall there was a serious obstacle to deal with. Between the road and the wall itself there was what we affectionately called a benjo. A benjo is a ditch that, as I would find out, car tires fit into quite nicely. As I was driving the car, it fell into this ditch and wasted the drivers side as it scraped the seawall coming to a stop.

OK, now I’m in trouble. Not only have I driven that car to a place that I was not supposed to be, I am also drinking, and I’ve wasted Dad’s prize posession, crap. There were enough people there that if we had some sort of leader we could have picked up the car and moved it, but, none of us were in any shape to become a leader that night, way too much drinkin’. We tried, but were unable to move that car, it was really wedged in that ditch.

Now the funny part. I had to take this long walk to the house and tell the old man. All the way to the house, I’m sweatin’. I get to the house to find the old man awake and, thankfully, almost as drunk as we were. I tell him what has happened. He yelled at me for a minute or two, then we loaded up in his HiAce van to go get the car. Dad was definitely a dude that was able to operate even under enormous pressure. We get to the car and at first, he just shakes his head. All our friends were very concerned, ’til dad grabbed a beer and started crackin’ jokes with the guys. He finishes his beer, and gathers all of us into a little huddle where he started to unfold his plan of getting the car out of the ditch. There wasn’t a lot of room around the drivers side to be able to pick up the car, so we did a little at a time and kept placing boards under the tires to hold them up.

All in all it took about ten minutes to free the front wheel and ten more for the back. We got the car free. Now, dad has the audacity to tell me to follow him to the house, so we wouldn’t get caught. I don’t know how following him would keep us from getting caught, he was as drunk as the rest of us. I did obey, though. We say bye to the guys, they left too to go back to Maki Housing.

We get to the house and Dad lectures me over the sheer number of rules that I broke and, once again, tries to verbally become anal about his family not breaking the rules. After an hour or so we bed down for the night. The next day we all woke up and started moving around, Dad approaches and we go together out to look at the damaged car. By this time, he has figured out where we are in our relationship and has decided that I had already been punished enough if I would only promise him that I would try not to waste any more cars, which I did. I still can’t believe that I never got punished for that. I don’t think he could bring himself to punish me for something he coulda or woulda done at least once in his life. Thank God that Dad was a drinker!

He laughed about that night many times and told all three of his kids how much he enjoyed growing up with us. He’s not around anymore, and I miss him terribly. I do have all these memories to keep, but, this one was just the beginning.

I forgot to write about the trip we made to Taiwan in September or October of 1979.  When we landed in Japan at Narita airport, we were stamped into the country as tourists.  As tourists we were not allowed to stay in country for more than 6 months or so.  Dad made many trips to Kadena as well as to the consulate’s office.  As it turned out, the entire family would have to leave the country and return to be properly stamped in as military inhabitants, similar to the US work visa.

Dad’s company bought us all tickets to Taiwan.  We went to the Okinawa Airport and flew out and a couple hors later we arrived at the Chiang Kai Chek airport in Taiwan.  We were stamped into Taiwan as tourists and went to this huge hotel to spend the night.  On the way to the hotel we were amazed at the number of bicycles traveling the highways.  There were bridges as well as highways made specifically for bicycles also.  There were lovers hanging all over each other and the basic feel of Taiwan was far different than Okinawa.

We went to this shopping area and picked out some Jade pieces and bought some Marble pieces and some other little odds and ends.  We went back to the hotel and of course had to dine on Taiwanese food while we were there.  The next day we went to see a few sites and went back to the Airport.

Somehow, we were able to get all the way to the gate without a boarding pass (The whole family).  The Taiwanese police got more than a little excited.  We were all hauled in and questioned in this little indescript police room in the airport.  The police were carrying uzi’s and this was definitely intimidating to all of us.  The man in charge came in the little room and promised my Dad that we would make our plane, they were just really concerned about how we were able to circumvent several layers of security.  Dad answered all of their questions, he really looked concerned the entire time, and we knew this was really serious.

As promised, our plane was held at the gate until we boarded.  The plane was very late taking off that day and we were the last ones in, so I know folks knew we were the problem.  Dad was very relieved when the plane went airborne and had himself several drinks on the way back to Okinawa, I think he deserved it.  When we got back we were properly stamped into the country.  Dad’s friends went to Taiwan several times while we were there, but, Dad never even considered it.  Mom went with her friends once and Dad stayed in Okinawa.  I think that he really got scared that day.

I know that I was scared to death, it’s not everyday you are detained in a foreign country.  This was my first time being detained in a foreign country, but, it would not be my last.

Late november it starts to get really cold. I had to wear a jacket. Again, I’m seriously allergic to temperatures below about 75 or so. The nights were chilly by this time. We were really having a good time in this new land of wonder. We were making more frequent trips to Naha as well as to Koza. In Naha there was this huge video game arcade right behind the Mitsukoshi Department Store. There was this huge building with nothing but restaurants in the same area. We were eating Japanese food more and more frequently every week, and this building of restaurants was very useful.

In Koza, we were starting to visit the clubs and starting to have an actual drink from time to time. We were also still going to the skating rink and drinking either there or around the corner at the seawall. We were getting in our first “real” tastes of alcohol by this time in the Okinawa Experience.

Mom and Dad decided to go to this Christmas party at a friends house and was leaving the three of us alone at the house for the evening. The customary - no visitors, don’t leave the house - orders were given. Somehow Mike talked Dad into giving us permission to mix up some screwdrivers (We had all learned to mix vodka and orange juice over the years) so we were ready for some cool beverages. Mom and Dad leave and Mike starts mixing. The first few were rather light, but, as the evening wore on they were getting stronger and stronger. Then, one shot orange juice and fill the rest of the glass with Vodka. Mike got lit beyond lit. I really don’t remember much, but, I do remember Dad being pretty upset that we nearly polished off the bottle. I think that Dad figured out that night that we would follow in his footsteps on the road to alcoholism. We were all three pretty drunk, but, Mike was three sheets in the wind. I personally believe that Cheryl and I were the recipients of Dad’s heavyweight drinking genes while Mike was really a lightweight with Mom’s 2 drinks and she’s out genes.

As christmas got closer, even the okinawans got into the spirit. Probably due to the years of having to deal with americans living on their island. Our okinawan friends gave us christmas cards and small gifts, and we gave the same items to them. We were told right up front and early on that we would not be allowed to invite any friends over for christmas - family only. I think that 1979 was our last family only christmas. In following years we just left after the festivities, if they wouldn’t let our friends come over, we went over to friends’ places.

Christmas 1979 we all had a good time together as a family. The presents were grand. Two pachinko machines (Pachinko was a very popular form of gambling for the okinawan community) and some other odds and ends. Listening to christmas music meant far less than before, the scenery of the island as well as the weather were not particularly reminiscent of any christmas we ever had before.

Around this time, also, I was taking night school. It was mandatory that all dependents take a driver’s safety and training course to get the “on base only” drivers license. We watched these stupid 60is films about car wrecks and drinking and driving (they did not teach abstainence). We practiced driving in a plywood box shaped like a car seat with a silly road film that was probably developed in the late 50s. Our practice pods had push button transmissions, like we would ever see one of those in a Japanese car. When we finally got to get behind the wheel, passing the driving test was easy. I got the cherished “on base only” license and the “real” fun was about to begin. I owe my dad a really big “thank you” for sacrificing and taking me to the class day after day while he hit the “o” club (Officers Club) for a drink or three (really good example he was, but, in those days the laws were not even close to what they are today about drinking and driving).

Mom started taking classes at the Kadena USO during this time also, and, we liked to go with them. I know, I know, why would teenage sons want to go with their parents to classes at the USO? Well, let me tell you that when a kid can stand at the front door of the USO and see the bright lights of Gate 2 Street and feel the call of the wild; riding with mom and dad to the USO was a means to an end. While mom was in class and dad was either at the “O” club or the snack bar we were on Gate 2 Street participating in some really wild times that we still remember some 25 years later.

After Christmas was over we spent New Years at the Maki Youth Center for one of those all kids sleep overs. We shouldn’t have been, but we were drinking a little that night too. I think we all had a good time, and just so you know, Las Vegas was not the first place to use the what happens here, stays here slogan. None of the chaperons ever told on any of us that participated in the drinking, they had to know.

1980 was dawning and many, many things would start to happen. 1980 was full of growing pains - more on that later.

There weren’t any pilgrims, that is certain. There were, however, our Okinawan friends. We had invited Chieko, Kyomi, Ayako, and Yasuko to the house to feast. It was great, just another opportunity to gain the trust of our parents before all h*ll broke loose. I used to have pictures of the girls participating in our thanksgiving ritual, but, over the years and several more moves ….. you know. We had a spread, all or most of it was cooked in this microwave. Dad had bought this Amana Radarrange (he insisted it was the best) and that thing was our oven for 5 years. It had all these doo dads to set up and plug in order to cook. I only learned to put on a time and hit the start button to warm up dinner. I got really good at warming up the “magic plate” that was always waiting inside the radarrange when I got home at 10 or 11.

Mom and Dad stuck this turkey in the microwave, attached the temp probe and let ‘er rip for an hour or two and viola - Cooked Turkey. Mom made mashed potatoes and corn and whatever else we had that year. I know that the Okinawan girls were especially fond of the banana pudding and the deviled eggs.

Anyway, we all fixed our plates and had to wait in line to re-nuke the food for a minute to warm it back up, it got cold because you could only cook one piece at a time to begin with. We warmed our food up and sat down all over the house, on the couches and chairs in front of the TV of course. I think that the girls did like the food to a certain degree, but it was definitely a change from the normal Okinawan diet. We watched Japanese TV and listened to music and really had a good time just conversing and getting to know each other better. Mike, my brother, started falling for Ayako that day. She was way older than he was and it never did transpire into a relationship, but, dream he did.

I was just turning 16 at that time and the mandatory driving class at Kadena to get the cherished “on base only” drivers was a hot topic. We were all making plans of things to do once I got my license. Boy were we ready. We finished the day with a walk down to the seawall, where I asked Kyomi to be my girlfriend. She accepted and for the next year we were inseparable. We walked the girls about a mile up the hill to the bus stop and they caught that proverbial last bus going north. They lived past Koza and their trip home was about an hour.

Thanksgiving 1979 was very meaningful in many ways. The best Thanksgiving that I personally can remember (at least until I got married).

Along about october or so in 1979 the farts, I mean AFRTS Radio was all abuzz over typhoon condition 3. What the h*ll is that? Bases were locking down and no POVs (Privately Owned Vehicles) were allowed on the streets unless the occupants were involved in mission critical travel. Wow, this was really gettin’ serious. We went to the store and acquired plenty of rations to ride out the coming storm. Plenty of duct tape for the windows and a couple sheets of plywood, just in case. We had left all the tools in storage in the states, so of course, we had to get tools also.

There was a hardware store about a mile from the house and the little okinawan guy was very helpful to these gaijins lookin’ at the tools. I often went to that little hardware store to buy all sorts of tools over the years and still have most of the tools that I bought. So we get back to our house, which was completely exposed to the elements, being on top of a hill surrounded by the ocean. Dad had done this before, so he knew the drill.

One would think that the way the radio was barking out the typhoon condition constantly that trouble was right around the corner. We had gotten a typhoon tracking map from somewhere and were plotting the location of the storm whenever they called out the coordinates. This thing was moving so, so, slowly. Over time the winds started to pick up pretty good. The waves on the ocean were getting pretty big. Rain was starting to fall pretty hard. By this time no personnel whatsoever, on base, were allowed outside their homes, not even mission critical?

The wind was not only starting to become deafening it was fierce. We were late in the afternoon when this thing reached its most deafening point, then it just howled all through the night. We didn’t dare leave the house, we weren’t allowed, were we? The third or fourth typhoon we discovered that the okinawans still move around and go shopping even in the worst of conditions, but, we didn’t know that in this first one so we stayed at the house. One of the windows broke, so me and dad and mike, lookin’ like fools go outside to get one of those pieces of plywood and we were gonna put it up over the broke window. So, we are outside in 100+ mph wind trying to hold this piece of plywood against the house so the old man can drive a screw into it to hold it. Mom is all a feared that one or all of us would get hurt really bad, yet, none of us did. We did get the plywood secured to the house, and while the wind howled we all went to bed. I’ll always remember that night, the howling of the wind and the roar of the ocean. I don’t think any of us slept very well. The next morning, the winds were dying down and we ventured out into the neighborhood.

Our little neighborhood resembled a war zone. Trees knocked down, streets filled with all kinds of stuff. As the neighborhood woke up, we all just started picking up the debris and throwing it away. None of the houses suffered much damage, except for our broke window. Most of the trees were still there, those trees are amazing, the amount of punishment they take three or four times a year. The whole neighborhood was cleaned up in a few hours. The winds were diminishing and life was getting back to normal. We replaced the window and all was again right with the world. We had all survived our first typhoon.

EDIT:  I did a little fact checking and on wikipedia I found out it was Typhoon Tip October 1979, supposedly the largest recorded typhoon in history.

As we got more and more used to the new surroundings, the opportunities that showed up were more and more exciting. Our “new” okinawan friends, Kyomi and Chieko had a good report with my parents. When they asked us to join them in a trip to Koza for some “shopping” my parents couldn’t help but be delighted. Yeah, the first few trips we did do some shopping and got to know the area pretty well between Gate 2 street and BC street, but, it wasn’t long before we started hitting the clubs.

Through the autumn of 1979 we had discovered many things beyond just the skating rink and school. We had found the place at kadena where you rented the latest music on reel to reel tapes and a setup to make copies onto cassettes. We discovered the rec center at makiminato service area had pool tables and the marines were more than happy to hang out with long haired high school kids and play pool. They weren’t really much older than we were. We had discovered beer and liquor in the cave below the house and all night parties with those same marines. We had discovered heiwa dori in Naha and the game rooms, the shopping centers, and the general trouble that kids can get into in a foreign country. We had discovered that the local bus system provided mobility to reach the far corners of the island and from autumn of ‘79 on we were unstoppable. On friday and saturday nights we just had to make sure we were on that last bus home at 10:30 or so …..

So, Chieko talks to our parents and somehow gains their trust to let us start going to Koza. Dad had been on island before, around ‘73 or so, and he knew the deal in Koza. I bet he was a party animal in his day. But Chieko assured him that we would be alright. We went. That first few times we only did a little looking around at the shops in what had been previously known as blackmarket alley. They showed us which buses to ride for our trips back and forth from home. But, soon the trips were different. These girls were 18 and 19 and here we were 13 and me at 15 and we found out there was no law against minors in bars. We were listening to heavy metal at the time and that is what they played in these bars. So loud you couldn’t even talk. This was definitely where we would want to be. We did’nt do any real drinking in these early trips, but, we slipped in a sip or three from time to time. Over time Koza, actually the bus stop in front of Teruya Music, became the starting point for many an escapade.

We were still hanging at that skating rink in between Koza runs, and we were actually having the time of our young lives. We were just beginning to understand the opportunities ahead. We had forged friendships with these older girls and beyond the two there were their friends - Ayako, Yasuko, Keiko. We all went to the coffee houses and that was a trip in and of itself. The Japanese really revere coffee and the art of the brew. They used Bunsen burners to heat water and it would push up through a straw into the brew funnel, where it would boil for a while, then the heat would be removed and the coffee would fall back to the bottom. The two pieces of the brewer would separate and coffee poured over ice and ……. rotsa sugar water. That coffee process was awesome. The smell, the sound, and most of all the flavor. A Japanese coffee house had coffee from all over the world. Every gourmet blend you can imagine. Not what we perceive as gourmet “butternut hazel creme” no self respecting coffee lover would drink that crap. I really liked the coffee called Kilimanjaro, that stuff was some kinda flavorful.

It was really getting late in the year at this point. We had already experienced more in three months than most experience in a lifetime. Christmas was coming and typhoon season was in full swing ……..

In 1979 we three kids were largely uncorrupted by american society.  Sure, we had gotten into our share of trouble, but, we were still pure and clean for the most part.  In our new circle of friends, mostly from Makiminato Housing Area, we learned about the skating rink.  The skating rink quickly became “the” in place where all us kids could hang on Friday and Saturday nights.  There were a bunch of us that all made the pilgrimage.  Some of the names:  Clarice, Brenda, Ron, Danny, Steve, Me, Mike, Cheryl, Michelle, all having a good time skating around in circles on Friday and Saturday nights to songs like “I was made for loving you” and “Don’t stop ’til you get enough”.  The “real” beauty of the island was really starting to creep its way into my life.  I met this really nice young lady - Rieko Mirahira.  She was an Okinawan high school student and she lived very close to the skating rink.  There was a significant language gap, but, I tried really hard to learn to communicate.  After skating was over I would walk her home.  We started to become pretty good friends.  Then, I was invited by her to come to her house.  I guess that her parents were not particularly keen finding out that their daughter was hanging out with an American boy.  They were nice while I was at the house, but, this would be the last time I would ever see her.  I would go again to the house when she first quit coming to the rink, (Rieko imasu ka?) but her mother simply shooed me away with no explanation at all.  Ou relationship only lasted about 6 weeks.  I will wonder forever what actually happened.

Shortly after this little innocent relationship came to an end I met two more nice ladies.  Kyomi Gushi and Chieko Yamaguchi.  I was immediately smitten with Kyomi.  They were attending Okinawa Christian School and studying English.  Communicating was much easier with the two of them.  We really built a good friendship quickly.  Since Okinawa Christian School was only about a mile from our house we saw each other often.  They built a good report with my parents and opened up the door for our further exploration of the island.

During the early days of our existance on Okinawa, we did exhaustively explore the areas close to the house.  We lived up on a peninsular hill overlooking the ocean.  There was a seawall on all three sides except for a little gap for a white sand beach about 100 feet wide.  The flat earth between the seawall and the hill was growing wild.  There was an old mission building that was filled floor to ceiling with those farming hats made from rice leaves, I believe.  We rummaged through that little building quite often, but never found anything of any value.  I di, however, take one of those hats and hang it on the wall in my little bedroom.

At the very end of the peninsula there was a cave.  It only went about 20 to 25 feet into the hill, but there were rock chairs and steps.  This cave was a really cool place to haul the boom box accoustics were awesome.    Quite often Marines from the base next door would find their way into our little neighborhood and more importantly to the cave.  There were many, many really good parties there.  Loud music, beer, liquor, kids and marines mix really well.  Right outside the cave and right about 50 paces was a small beach.  Saturdays at the little beach were really cool.  We learned to break open sea urchins and eat the meat raw from the Okinawans that were there tide pooling every Saturday.   All along the seawall there were fishermen at high tide and tide poolers at low tide.  One could easily walk out 100 or so yards toward the ocean from the seawall when the tide was low.  The coral shelf went forever.  In the tidal pools there were sea urchins and fish and seaweed, all of which we learned were good to eat.  At the end of the coral shelf is where the white capped breakers were.  The waves were really loud at the end of the coral shelf.

W e had a leg up on our American counterparts that lived on bases in that we became immersed in the culture of the island.  We had to learn to communicate with the locals quickly in order to just say “hello” to the neighbors, something we take for granted in the united states was a struggle.

Our next door neighbor was some sort of political figure in Japan.  I don’t remember his name as he was not often in town, but his wife’s name was Kazuko.  Their house was unbelievable.  It overlooked and had stairs that led to the beach.  From the living room one could watch the larger planes take off from Kadena Air Base.  In the house were all sorts of trinkets from around the world.  Elephant Tusks, Tiger Skin Rug, Pictures of Yassir Arafat, and other less recognizable world leaders adorned the walls and the floors.  Once, when he was in town, he took our family out for dinner.  He took us to this really nice restaurant and insisted we ate the eel.  He pulled his Lincoln Continental out of the garage and we went in style.

School days continued.  As the school year progressed, the group of kids that got off the Maki bus and went to the smoking area increased.  The smoking area continued to attact more and more kids.  The smoking area doubled as the student parking lot, but, since you had to be 18 to get a license there weren’t very many kids driving to school.  The kids in school were very different that any kids in any other school I had ever been around.  They were actually very nice.  Even though I was a military brat, we never really lived around bases and I had always gone to civilian schools.  Civilian kids aren’t particularly nice to the “new kids”.  These military kids were all new constantly and had gotten used to being the “new kids” so the outlook they had was much better than I had ever experienced.  I was a very reclusive and withdrawn person as a result of the experiences I had earlier in life.  I don’t think I met more than 10 kids that first year I was in high school.  I certainly was not “Mr. Popular”.  Most of the kids I did meet were on my bus and came up daily from Maki.

I did meet a few kids from other areas at the smoking area.  There was Steve and Chris, Mary, Keith we started skipping school from time to time and have some really good stories from some of those days.  I was headed straight down a path of getting to know Mr Weldon (The Principal) really well.

Okinawa has this perpetual summer. With lows in the 50s and highs in the 60s (in the winter) summer never really ends. Some people wear shorts and flip-flops year ’round. Not me, I’m allergic to any temp below 75.

Trepidation set in as we got ready for that first day of school after the summer of “big change”. I was the only one of the three of us going to high school, so my walk to the bus stop that first day was alone. I was the only American kid, so I thought, in the neighborhood in high school. That first morning at the bus stop learning continued. The walk through the neighborhood took about 5 minutes. The bus stop was at that gate for Makiminato Service Area (where had taken a left on the way to the house that first time). As I walked through the neighborhood, I noticed many things that I had never noticed before. About halfway to the bus stop I started hearing this chanting, I surmized that the family that lived in that house was budhist. Believe it or not, that chanting is one of the many things that I miss the most. As I rounded the corner that lead to the gate, there was another kid at the bus stop. He really didn’t look american, but he was. David Yamada lived in the house right below ours with his family, but he clearly looked Okinawan to me. We spoke over the years, but never really became good friends or anything, his circle of friends was quite different from mine. He was a really nice person just the same, and the rest of his family were good people too. His sister, Nancy was pretty good friends with my sister, Cheryl.

We waited for the bus about 5 minutes or so and then it rounded the curve and headed for the gate where we were. I always liked keeping a low profile, so I really liked sitting in the back of the bus. I was nervous as the bus rolled to a stop. The bus was already full, we were the last stop on the run. As we boarded the bus, I was amazed to see the back seat with only one person in it. I was further amazed that the dude in the back seat had long blonde hair (like mine). I headed straight for that back seat and sat down. Whew. The back seat was mine for the rest of my career riding the bus. The dude sitting next to me was named Steve Sawyer. We hit it off pretty quick. He was a newbie just like me, so together we experienced many new experiences.

The bus ride was about 30 minutes. I really don’t remember a lot about that first ride, except when we pulled into the school parking lot and started to get off the bus. We were wondering what were we going to do? We anxiously looked around through the bus windows. We inched toward the front, anxiety got stronger, we could hear loud talking, bansheeism, music, you name it. As we stepped down off the bus, we finally figured it out. There was this tree in the middle of this remote parking lot with about 15 long haired kids and 12 or 13 ladies hanging out smoking cigarettes and everything. We were home. “The smoking area” would be “home” for three more years until graduation.

We looked over our schedules and had all the same problems that all other high school kids have.  Where were all these different rooms?  What would the teachers be like?  There were these two kids up there in the smoking area that told us “how things were”.  Steve and Chris Larkin had been there for a couple years already.  They knew where everything was.  They were good to us and shared all of their vast wealth of directional information so we wouldn’t get lost on that first day.  While we were up there the first bell rang, then the second bell rang.  We set the tone, at the direction of the others, to not be on time.   The tardy bell became our signal to start the trek to homeroom.  This was a lesson that would stick for the entire three years also.

Nothing else that happened that first day carried near the significance that finding the smoking area carried, at least not to me. There is really only one other item that I carry in my memory of my first day at Kubasaki High School. One of my classes was algebra. I can’t remember the teachers name, but I vividly remember the opening line. She asked the class as she came in and shut the door behind her “What does a mermaid wear?” No one said a word for about ten seconds. She answered her own question “an Algae Bra”. How fitting that this joke (ocean related) would stick with me all these years.

My sophomore year was underway.