Recently, we were seated on a bench at a shopping centre, waiting for a ride home when an attractive Asian girl sat beside us with her son in a stroller. Larry did his usual thing. He wiggled his fingers saying, “Hi” to the little fellow. He was rewarded with a smile and baby sounds—a most adorable boy! It was obvious his dad is Caucasian. She said, “You guys are cute. (Really? Two 88 and 91 year oldies cute?) How long have you been together and how did you meet?”
We’ve had these questions asked of us many, many times. Finally I’ve decided to put pen to paper for our grandchildren and great-grandchildren who may ask. In the telling we divulge a lot about ourselves and makes us revisit our hopes and dreams of long ago. It was not a seamless process of meeting, hearts going-a-flutter, dating, and proposing on bended knee sort of thing.
We were the most unlikely people to become a pair. I had left Montreal with a definite long-term plan in mind and Larry had escaped a country under a very repressive regime. His priority was to find gainful employment and resume his studies in the medical field.
In New Denver when I turned 15, my oldest brother Tom took on the role of enforcer of house rules. Dad had speech problems after a stroke so Tom was now the “boss.” He ruled favourite gathering places out of bounds for me and said not to be a “flirtie gertie” or to cheapen myself as worthwhile guys will pursue me, not the reverse. I told him with his rules, I would end up an old maid.
The next years were the most impressionable and formative for me. I had the good fortune of having nuns as high school teachers in New Denver, as instructors and supervisors through nursing school, then as providers of room and board at St. Raphael’s House in Montreal. These nuns were refined ladies; the essence of grace and kindness. They were my role models and I converted to Catholicism.
St. Raphael’s House was a stately old mansion with a smaller connecting house at the back (servant’s quarters used by the nuns).The main part of the house was for the new Japanese arrivals in Montreal. We were welcome to stay as long as needed. The large basement had accommodations for families. Robert Ito (of tap dancing fame pre-war and as actor best known for his role in Quincy in the post-war era) and his family occupied one of the three suites. The main floor consisted of a huge dining room, living room, and chapel. The upstairs rooms were for ten of us single girls and the sun-room for five orphan girls who were under the nuns’ care. We were like one big family. The Sisters encouraged us to invite friends for parties and special occasions and provided refreshments at no extra cost to us.
Tom was right when he said worthwhile guys will pursue you. However, I found none whom I could consider a life partner and soul mate. Through my days in nursing school I had a great roommate, Audrey Gagne. Her family accepted me wholly and I had the pleasure of experiencing firsthand the French Canadian way of life—such “joie de vivre.” The two of us, in our naiveté coupled with idealism of youth, thought we could do great things in the world, especially with our new R.N. designation. We attended a former classmate’s service as she took her first vows as a postulant in a convent. We were impressed and thought “sisterhood” was our calling too.
Coincidentally, a Belgian Jesuit priest visited our Japanese Catholic Centre. He was on sabbatical from his duties as economics professor at Sofia University in Tokyo. His great interest and spare time was spent with a group of orphans cared for by French Canadian missionaries in Japan. These were children fathered by American servicemen. Knowing that the Japanese mostly looked unfavourably on children of mixed race, he thought their chances of adoption were poor. Their stay with the Sisters would be long and they would need more assistance later as they grew older. This sounded like a worthy project for me. But first, I had to ensure my widowed mother would be well looked after. With this in mind, I returned to the West Coast.
Larry grew up in Eastern Europe. He and his classmates at Charles University in Prague participated in a peaceful protest against the Communists encroaching on the Czech government in 1948. They were unexpectedly manhandled and imprisoned. They knew they had to escape if there was to be any future for them. Following a harrowing escape to Germany, Larry moved to Denmark. After a short stay there, he crossed the ocean to eastern Canada, and finally to the West Coast, “the best place on earth.” He and his fellow escapees did their best to keep a low profile as they were convinced that there were paid informers here who were sending updates about them to their government and there would be repercussions on their families back home (they were proven correct, we found out later). Larry ran out of funds while at UBC. He looked for and found a position at the Royal Columbian Hospital (RCH) Lab. He was also fortunate to find room and board with a French couple close by.
I found Mom in need of warmer and more comfortable living quarters. There was no way I could leave her on her own in spite of her fierce independence and objections. I also was employed at RCH and was able to rent living quarters just blocks away. There was another nurse, nicknamed “Pete” for Ruth Peterson, who occupied the other rental space in this large house.
Pete invited many male friends to the house for a variety of reasons. This is how I met Larry. She said he needed help with English, which surprised me as I recognized him as the one we called the “European gentleman” who was used when we needed an interpreter for the new immigrants from the Slavic countries.
Later that year there was a Christmas party, a combined party for doctors, nurses, lab staff, and therapists. Pete asked Larry and I asked a former classmate from pre-war days to be my escort. We made it a foursome for our first hospital party. As soon as the dancing started, it was obvious that our partners were not familiar with the different dances and rhythms. However, Larry and I knew them all and each time we danced, we had an audience, which Larry found unnerving. At St. Raphael’s House, Robert Ito taught me all the dances he learned at Arthur Murray Dance Studios. The other girls loved watching us but felt they couldn’t learn so I was his only partner. Larry and his fellow Czechs all danced well because learning social skills and dancing was part of their schooling. Soon dancing dates became a succession of other dates.
I fit in well with Larry’s group. They took quickly to Canadian ways and became citizens at the first opportunity; however, loneliness and homesickness prevailed. They felt helpless when snippets of news were heard about hardships and shortages back home under rigid Communist rule. These feelings were palpable when near the end of our gatherings, they would form a circle, link arms, and sing old folk songs and their national anthem. At times there were tears.
They moved on and some married local girls. They looked at us, and often asked of us, when? Tom was getting anxious: “Are you thinking of marrying a guy you know so little about—his background and family. Are you prepared for the hostility you may face and of having kids, etc.” It mattered not when I told him that he opened a wider world for me and that we were both in the health field and of the same faith. Mom said an English man was okay as long as he was a good man (all white folks were English to her).
A colleague, an English physiotherapist, thought I should be warned that European men like the British tended to be chauvinistic and thought they were a “cut above” and were not as free and easy as North Americans. I began to have bouts of self-doubt. I had veered so far from my original plans. Then I heard from Audrey, with whom I had made plans to become a missionary nun. She had found the “right man” for her. I felt then, that I could freely change my mind. But I resolved to help the orphanage in Japan in whatever way I could (those children today are in their 60s).
We started house hunting. George Oikawa showed us “starter homes” at $19,000 which we thought were not fancy, but the price shocked Tom. He opined, “People in beer class with champagne taste. With a 25-year mortgage, you’d only pay the interest and not touch the principal.” He was a lot happier when we took his advice and bought a lot and started building a bit at a time as money allowed. After a year of trial and error and help from family and friends, we had a house ready for occupancy and ready for marriage.
Two weeks before our wedding, Larry moved in with Mom. His landlady was expecting a family from France to visit. After three wonderful years with this couple, he thought moving out a little earlier would give them more time to prepare. Mom’s J’English (mixture of Japanese and English) held her in good stead. Sometimes their conversations were amusing, but amazingly they developed a rapport between them.
To say we had a wedding “on the cheap” is an understatement. Most of Larry’s colleagues at work, thinking he had no family here, attended, including the medical director, his associate, their wives, and children. We were overwhelmed. We didn’t have enough food for all at the reception. Following a weekend honeymoon in Seattle, we had a surprise waiting for us. As we neared our home, there was a beautiful rainbow in the distance with one end squarely on our property—we took it to be a good omen.
We were blessed with a son, John, and two years later with a daughter, Katharine, with the best of genes from the mix of both worlds. Not biased, mind you, but both were smart and good looking too.
Soon Larry’s European-ness began to emerge. Children should eat European rye bread instead of the Canadian “paper bread,” garlic can be a cure for many ills, there wasn’t enough emphasis on manners and discipline in schools, etc. I had to remind myself often of this quote by Benjamin Franklin: “Keep thine eyes wide open before marriage—half shut afterwards.”
About this time, back in Prague, the government with a new president loosened a few rules. There was a small window of opportunity when visitors and citizens were allowed in and out of the country. Larry’s mom came for a visit but not his ailing dad. By the time Larry obtained a visa and plane ticket, the government once again tightened its grip as before. Larry never did get to see his dad.
How unprepared we were for what was to come. Our lives seemed to spiral completely out of control. Our dear, dear son was killed by a drunk driver. What indescribable pain and ache in our hearts which at times continues to this day. In our grief, we failed to notice that our older dog was also suffering. Candy never left our yard but went missing and was found dead on the road. We’re sure she went looking for John.
Less than a month after John’s burial, I awoke with no strength in my legs. A CT scan, a new diagnostic tool at that time and for which I had an agonizing wait for my turn, revealed a tumour on my spinal cord. It was at the heart and lung level, a very precarious spot. The doctors warned me that the usual outcome in these situations was life in a wheelchair. After consultations with several specialists, they decided on a two-part surgery but warned me it would require heavy duty rehabilitation. They thought I would be a good candidate for this type of revolutionary surgery (rehab nursing was my specialty at that time). They were so right. It was an arduous slog, day after day. With very dedicated therapists and Larry’s help every inch of the way, I slowly regained the use of my legs.
There was another blow to come. We had to part ways with our home, built with thirty years of love and labour and fixed to suit our needs and wants. On the doctor’s advice, Larry had to find a house with no stairs and low maintenance before I left the hospital. To leave our home with its large yard, garden, and fruit trees and move to our present home was heart-breaking. Our marriage at this point had weathered many a storm. As Oscar Wilde stated, “To most of us, real life is the life we do not lead.”
A change in fortune came in the news from Prague that after so many years, there was a protest that was sustained until the ruling government was banished for good. Around the world it was called “The Velvet Revolution.” After more than fifty years, Larry finally got to go home. All the years seemed to melt away as he had a reunion with remaining members of his family, relatives, and neighbours. As he sat in his boyhood home, he must have felt he had come full circle.
The foregoing is an anatomy of our bi-racial marriage, warts and all. Did we help blur the lines of racial and cultural divides? After our marriage, the world seemed to awaken to all things Japanese—the simple clear lines of art and design, the tasteful placement of a few flowers and green in ikebana, the tranquility of a Japanese garden, origami, etc. Previous feelings of aversion evolved into admiration and everything Japanese seemed fashionable, even up to marrying one. Today it’s great to see these mixed unions with their beautiful children.
Now, in our “sunset” or “twilight years,” our main focus is keeping body and soul together. We do have the luxury of time, time to while away in nostalgia…some sad, some glad. We met over sixty years ago…the journey continues.
“Old wood to burn, old wine to drink, old friends to toast, and old authors to read.”
—Francis Bacon
*This article was originally published in Nikkei Images, Winter 2015, Volume 20, No. 3.
© 2016 Kim (Oikawa) Kobrle
