Memories of Okinawa

I am going to write down as many of the memories that I can possibly write over the coming weeks and months. Good, Bad, or Evil all the memories. I welcome other folks to share their own memories of experiences on the island.

We moved into the Okinawa Hilton in June of 1979. At first our world had opened up tremendously. There was a nightclub, a little cafe, a video gameroom, a restaurant, a pool, a mountainside garden and everything. We were three kids – me 16, my brother 14, and my sister 9. We set out exploring and meeting these wonderful people that ran the place. There were rarely any Americans around, let alone kids, so all we really had was each other for companionship. That got boring really fast.

We met the guys that tended the pool, and the waitresses in the cafe, and the people at the front desk. They were all very friendly to us and tought us little Japanese phrases and made certain we were comfy. The hilton was our new home and as isolated as it was we made the most of it. We made many trips up the mountain exploring in the garden. We figured out very quickly that there were many graves cut into the side of the hill. Every once in a while we would run across incense, or a bowl of food at the door to the graves. There was one grave that actually was not sealed, yet, we never even considered shimmying through the open doorway mostly because we were scared of what we might find in there. The Hilton personnel explained to us the importance of respect in the garden and we never breached their trust.

At the top of the hill one could see both sides of the island. The pacific in the west and the China Sea in the east. We could see three bases from up there, Awase Housing, Fort Buckner (as it was called at the time) and Kadena air base. There was a water tower up there, although I do not remember us ever climbing to the top.

We ate breakfast almost every morning at the cafe in the Hilton. The waitresses were very friendly to the three of us as well as to our parents. We even ate some Japanese breakfasts. We were a very curious bunch of kids. On occaision one or two of the waitresses would even sit with us, always at a seperate table. They were very aware of their role as hotel employees and it showed. We learned a lot about respect in the culture just by watching the hotel employees. The employees at the hotel always paid extra attention to the three of us, especially when our parents weren’t around. We learned to bow at the Hilton as a show of respect. We noticed that they always bowed to us so we bowed back. It’s kind of like shaking hands here in the US but bowing means so much more. The depth of the bow signifies ones position on the social ladder. The hotel folks taught us to bow less than they did to us.

Television on Okinawa for american kids was far less than what we had been accustomed to in the States. There was exactly one english station, AFRTS (Armed Forces Radio and Television Service). Afternoons we found ourselves watching, believe it or not, Crusader Rabbit. A 1949 cartoon that I personally fell in love with. I watched every episode over and over. I even learned to emulate the Crusader Rabbit saunter. You can find a link to a crusader rabbit short on my Okinawa website. HERE

Our stay at the hilton immersed us and provided a buffered transition into the life we would experience over the next five years. I carried lessons learned and a deep respect for the Okinawan people from that hotel into the world. We moved out of the Hilton in August of 1979 and into a house in Urasoe City. The day we moved out was sad indeed. The waitresses in the cafe gave us a gift, and the bell boys gave us a card. Most of the hotel staff was at the front door seeing us off into the land of Okinawa. I think we all cherish the time we spent there and know that we so enjoyed the stay.

Sometime in late 1978 we moved from several different locations, dad from Garland Texas – Mom and my brother and sister from Albany Georgia – and finally me from Zwolle Louisiana (Where?), to Omaha Nebraska in preperation of moving overseas to Okinawa. We were all excited for many reasons. None of us had ever been outside the US, except for Dad, and we were all looking forward to the coming experience.

In June 1979, right after we all got out of school, we boarded a plane (Braniff) at Eppley Airfield, Omaha for a flight to Minneapolis/St. Paul. For us kids this was our very first experience in a plane. My butt puckered when that thing lifted off the ground, scared me half to death. When we arrived at MSP we changed planes (Northwest Air Lines) for a flight to Seattle. In Seattle, we changed again to another Northwest flight to Tokyo. On the flight to Tokyo we sat near an Okinawan lady on her way to visit relatives and she was adament in her opinion on the separation of Okinawa and Japan. “Okinawa and Japan are different” she said expressively. I really didn’t understand why at the time, but I understood later. Our plane in Seattle was delayed and we arrived at Narita Airport far too late to catch our connecting flight to Naha, Okinawa. The airline transported us to downtown Tokyo where we stayed at the Tokyu Hotel. We were all full of wonder and delight as everything was so different from the life that we had left behind. The streets were so different, the vehicles were completely different, everyone spoke in a language that none of us understood. We had dinner that night at the restaurant in the hotel, on the top floor, and I remember it was extremely expensive even way back then. We really didn’t do anything that night except eat and sleep, all courtesy of Northwest Airlines.

The next day we woke and readied for the final leg of the journey – the flight to our new home. We checked out of the Tokyu Hotel and were driven to Haneda Airport to catch our flight to Okinawa. Upon arrival in Okinawa the most vivid memory that I have is of Dad renting a car. You see, he had been there before and sort of already knew his way around. We departed the airport and were all amazed at how close the ocean (East China Sea) was to the highway. The images remain surreal to me to this day. We drove from the Airport in Naha to the Okinawa Hilton, of course dad did get lost a couple of times and the Okinawans were as friendly as any people on earth. The locals were very quick to offer directions and try to converse with this crazy American man who spoke absolutely none of their language. I remember that we ended up following this Okinawan man who led us up the hill to the hotel. Our home for the next three months would be rooms 351 (parents) and 353 (kids). The front desk folks tought us the Japanese words for our room numbers san-go-ichi and san-go-san. When we would arrive at the hotel the three of us would race to be able to use our new words to retrieve those room keys from behind the desk.