MY IRISH RELATIVES
My Dad would have been one hundred years old in 2011. He was born in a small farming town in Lawler, Iowa. The population at the time my father lived there was about 500. I visited there when I was a young man and it seemed to me that many of the town’s people were related to me. I recall visiting the local cemetery and observing all my deceased relatives tombstones including my grandparents who were born in Ireland. I was told my grandfather was a successful farmer who lost his farm due to the great depression in 1929. He reportedly deposited his money from a successful crop in the bank only to have the bank close the next day. After losing the farm my grandfather moved to Independence, Iowa where he obtained employment with the Iowa State Hospital, running their farm industry. My Dad, upon graduating from high school in Lawler, left to find employment in Chicago, IL, where I was born.
Even though my Dad left Lawler as a young man he never forgot his life on the farm. He often talked about returning there and always spoke of being buried there. He continued all of his life, whenever he returned to Iowa, to visit Lawler and often sent money to the priest at the small Catholic Church.
Years passed and my Dad retired after suffering a serious heart attack. While living in Glendale, California my Dad and Mother decided to visit us in Japan in the 1970’s. They insisted they come in August, and although we strongly discouraged their visit in August they insisted. August in Japan is when all of Japan shuts down for vacations and travel is extremely difficult. Japan’s four main islands are only as big as California, with a population approximately 150 million people, making travel difficult.
My parents arrived in Japan and at that time we were assigned to Yokosuka, about an hour’s train ride from Tokyo. I was worried about their trip as I knew my Mom would most likely be in shock at the difference between the United States and Japan. I was right. They no sooner arrived and my Mom asked why these people don’t speak English. Next she said for me to slow down or I was going to cause my Dad to have another heart attack. Wow, I thought this vacation is going to be difficult. We finally made it to the base, having driven by car from the airport in Tokyo.
Later I planned a trip for them to Shimoda, a beautiful fishing village, where Admiral Perry entered Japan and established trade with the country. Although the trip was only about 90 miles, it took over 12 hours to drive there. I thought my Mother was going to drive me crazy with her complaining why it was taking so long. I reminded her I had told her it was vacation time in Japan, and I had warned her not to come in August. Then when we got to the Oceanside inn where we often stayed she said, “Don’t tell me we have to sleep on the floor.” Bev and I left and then went to the Saki bar and had a few drinks to escape after an exhausting day.
The rest of the trip went well, however, the return trip and another 12 hour ride back to Yokosuka was much the same with complaints about the long drive. So, I thought I would take them to Tokyo, and put them on a bus for a tour of the city. We took the train to Tokyo and went to the Sanno Hotel. American food was available at the Sanno so that made them happy. Then after a bite to eat we took them outside to where the bus was leaving, they got on, my mother was astonished that we were not going with them. Again Bev and I went to the bar in the hotel and indulged in a few drinks to survive. Bev being a Baptist laughed and said, “Now I see why the Irish drink so much.”
Back home at our base things went well. However, my mother started asking my wife why hasn’t any one called and told her about her mother and how she is doing. She then started complaining she probably died and no one will call and tell her. Finally Bev got a little upset and picked up the phone and called the United States and got Grandma McClung on the line and said, “Tell Mary you aren’t dead.” My Grandma McClung and I were very, very close and she was fully aware of my Mom’s disposition. My Grandma lived well into her 90’s and was one of the smartest women I ever met. She had graduated from a four year Registered Nurses training course at the turn of the century, and was the youngest of 13 children.
Next I planned a trip farther north to a very famous shrine where the Emperor of Japan went annually. The temple was over a thousand years old. We had visited it previously. So off we went in my new car which I had purchased for my parents, and the car had air conditioning, which was unusual for Japan. It seemed finally the complaints from my mother were slowing down, although I attributed that to my mother being mad at Bev, after she made the phone call to Grandma and was told to quit complaining and enjoy herself.
So we finally made it to the famous one thousand year old temple. As we pulled up to the temple on the hill I said to my Dad, “How do you like that?” He stated “Tommy this is no nicer than the cemetery in Lawler.” I still laugh about the comment to this day. I have told all of the relatives from Iowa of my dad’s comments and they get a big kick out of it. The funny thing, after my parents returned to the United States they did tell everyone what a wonderful time they had and how much they enjoyed Japan and their visit.
- A side note to this story is that my father died before my mother. So my mother buried my father at the famous Forest Lawn cemetery in Glendale, CA. That location is where all the famous people in CA and all the movie stars are buried. Recently they buried Michael Jackson in Forest Lawn. I visit the location whenever, I return to Glendale and without a doubt it is certainly the most beautiful cemetery in CA. It is also the most visited with the exception of Arlington in Washington. D.C., That location is where President Kennedy is buried. Unfortunately my dad did not get his wish to be buried in Lawler, Iowa.
- One time years ago when we were visiting relatives in Iowa my wife and I drove out to the cemetery in Lawler. After walking around I heard my wife looking up and saying to herself out loud Paul, my dad’s name, this cemetery is not as nice as the cemetery in Japan.
