My life story.
I got a book for Christmas called something about "Do you remember when". It basically has pages of "fill in the blanks" for things like where I was born, where I went to school and stuff like that. It is supposed to be a book that I fill our and give to my grandchild, so she will know me better latter on after I have passed away. I got to thinking about it and this could be dangerous. Since my grandchild is only 4 years old, I could leave her with all sorts of things to remember about me. The time I singlehandedly saved the Earth from Alien Space Invaders. The time I parted the waters of the river to allow people to walk across. And all the various other wonderful things I accomplished in my life. Could be fun, but would it be beneficial? What should I leave as an inheritance for my grandchild. What family history should I pass along, from generation to generation? Should I pass along only the good things that happened? Would it be helpful for my future generations to not know about the bumps and bruises the family suffered during the course of our lives. Should the struggles be ignored, and only the victories and triumphs related?
As you can see, I am somewhat conflicted about what I should pass on, and what should be forgotten. I think I need to think about this a little more before I start to fill in the blanks.
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
I have a new branch in my family tree!
When I was in elementary school, at the beginning of each school year the teacher would ask us all to tell about what we had done during the summer. I never had much to say, we very seldom went anywhere or did anything exciting. If I was asked the same question today, I would have a very unusual tale to tell. Here it is.
As I mentioned in a earlier post, my Father was in the Army, stationed in Japan, and had told us he had left a daughter there. I had often thought this was just another of his tall tales he would tell about his life before we knew him. This summer I learned that my family tree really does extend to Japan. I finally got to meet that Japanese daughter, my sister, Junko, this summer, 53 years later.
The story of the newly discovered branch of my family tree begins a couple of weeks before Easter 2011 when my brother called me on a week day. He usually calls on Saturday morning, from the old people's bench at the Walmart, while his wife does their weekly shopping. It is usually a casual conversation, how are you doing kind of thing, just a brief chat. This time he had a story to tell me. He had received a call from a Japanese TV producer, Kenshi Fukuhara, wanting information about our Dad, Willard Overing. Kenshi was working on a program called "Family History" for NHK, the Japanese public broadcasting network. Seems they had been contacted by a Japanese Movie Star, Tadanobu Asano, who was trying to find out information about his Grandfather, Willard Overing. Tadanobu is the son of Junko, the Japanese daughter of my Dad, and my Sister. Which makes him my Nephew. Talk about a family tree!
Kenshi called me several times over the new few weeks to ask questions about my father and our life together. He asked many questions about my Dad. I answered them as best I could, as many of my memories are growing dim. Kenshi asked if I would be willing to be interviewed for the TV show he was putting together for NHK, and I agreed.
I searched the Internet for information about them both. There were no hits for Junko, but Tadanobu is all over the Internet. I was amazed to see how many movies he has been involved with. I searched and searched to find out as much as I could about him. Kenshi had told me that he had acted in the recent American movie "Thor". I found a poster of him as Hogun, one of the Warriors Three. A friend of mine and I went to see the movie. His was a small part, but quite interesting to see him on the screen and know of our relationship.
The day came when the NHK film crew would be arriving in town. I met Kenshi at their hotel for a brief discussion about the interview, which was scheduled for the next day. They would come to my house the next morning to film the interview.
The crew arrived the next morning and set up their equipment. I did not know what to expect as I had never experienced anything like this in the past. Two lovely young ladies interviewed me. They would discuss the questions in Japanese, then ask me in english. They often would rephrase their questions and re ask them, trying to jog my memories. Much the same technique that police use when questioning criminals. I would not survive a hard questioning, that is for sure. They interviewed me for about 4 hours, then we broke for lunch.
While we were taking a break for lunch, I stated questioning one of the young Japanese women about my sister and her son. She said to please wait until we started filming again to answer my questions so they could capture my reactions on film. After lunch they presented me with some lovely lacquer-ware gifts. I was fascinated with the way they were wrapped. Nothing like we would do it, on the bias instead of at right angles. Guess that shows the difference in culture between us.
When we restarted the filming, she showed me pictures of Junko, when she was a small child. They also had pictures of my Father and Ichiko, Junko's mother, on their wedding day. When she showed me that picture, I was speechless. I compared that picture of my Father with a picture of him from early in his Army service, it was definitely the same man. There was no longer any doubt in my mind that Junko's father and mine were the same person. I had a Sister and Nephew that I had never met. My family tree suddenly was stretched across an ocean to a different, mysterious land. In that one moment, my whole world changed.
Later, in July, I travelled to London, England. There my brother and I met our Sister and Nephew for the first time. It was quite emotional for all of us. By coincidence, it was on my 65th birthday that we met. What a birthday present, to travel to a distant land, to meet family I had never met before! I will write more about the trip and meeting soon.
As I mentioned in a earlier post, my Father was in the Army, stationed in Japan, and had told us he had left a daughter there. I had often thought this was just another of his tall tales he would tell about his life before we knew him. This summer I learned that my family tree really does extend to Japan. I finally got to meet that Japanese daughter, my sister, Junko, this summer, 53 years later.
The story of the newly discovered branch of my family tree begins a couple of weeks before Easter 2011 when my brother called me on a week day. He usually calls on Saturday morning, from the old people's bench at the Walmart, while his wife does their weekly shopping. It is usually a casual conversation, how are you doing kind of thing, just a brief chat. This time he had a story to tell me. He had received a call from a Japanese TV producer, Kenshi Fukuhara, wanting information about our Dad, Willard Overing. Kenshi was working on a program called "Family History" for NHK, the Japanese public broadcasting network. Seems they had been contacted by a Japanese Movie Star, Tadanobu Asano, who was trying to find out information about his Grandfather, Willard Overing. Tadanobu is the son of Junko, the Japanese daughter of my Dad, and my Sister. Which makes him my Nephew. Talk about a family tree!
Kenshi called me several times over the new few weeks to ask questions about my father and our life together. He asked many questions about my Dad. I answered them as best I could, as many of my memories are growing dim. Kenshi asked if I would be willing to be interviewed for the TV show he was putting together for NHK, and I agreed.
I searched the Internet for information about them both. There were no hits for Junko, but Tadanobu is all over the Internet. I was amazed to see how many movies he has been involved with. I searched and searched to find out as much as I could about him. Kenshi had told me that he had acted in the recent American movie "Thor". I found a poster of him as Hogun, one of the Warriors Three. A friend of mine and I went to see the movie. His was a small part, but quite interesting to see him on the screen and know of our relationship.
The day came when the NHK film crew would be arriving in town. I met Kenshi at their hotel for a brief discussion about the interview, which was scheduled for the next day. They would come to my house the next morning to film the interview.
The crew arrived the next morning and set up their equipment. I did not know what to expect as I had never experienced anything like this in the past. Two lovely young ladies interviewed me. They would discuss the questions in Japanese, then ask me in english. They often would rephrase their questions and re ask them, trying to jog my memories. Much the same technique that police use when questioning criminals. I would not survive a hard questioning, that is for sure. They interviewed me for about 4 hours, then we broke for lunch.
My Granddaughter was quite interested in what was going on.
While we were taking a break for lunch, I stated questioning one of the young Japanese women about my sister and her son. She said to please wait until we started filming again to answer my questions so they could capture my reactions on film. After lunch they presented me with some lovely lacquer-ware gifts. I was fascinated with the way they were wrapped. Nothing like we would do it, on the bias instead of at right angles. Guess that shows the difference in culture between us.
When we restarted the filming, she showed me pictures of Junko, when she was a small child. They also had pictures of my Father and Ichiko, Junko's mother, on their wedding day. When she showed me that picture, I was speechless. I compared that picture of my Father with a picture of him from early in his Army service, it was definitely the same man. There was no longer any doubt in my mind that Junko's father and mine were the same person. I had a Sister and Nephew that I had never met. My family tree suddenly was stretched across an ocean to a different, mysterious land. In that one moment, my whole world changed.
Later, in July, I travelled to London, England. There my brother and I met our Sister and Nephew for the first time. It was quite emotional for all of us. By coincidence, it was on my 65th birthday that we met. What a birthday present, to travel to a distant land, to meet family I had never met before! I will write more about the trip and meeting soon.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
So what was my Dad like?
My Dad was not a very assertive type of person. He was much more mellow than that. Seems funny for a man who spent 20 years in the Army. A career that spanned three Wars. He never seemed to be very forceful or aggressive. Probably passive-aggressive, which everyone thinks of as a lack of bravery. I don't think it was lack of bravery, just a sense of self that told him what was the best way to get through life.
Dad seemed to be the most comfortable when he was in situations where he understood what was required of him. That is probably why he fit in so well in the Army. The open communication of expectations would have helped him to understand what he was supposed to do, and when he was supposed to do it. The rules of behaviour were quite obvious.
I believe that it was this way with his relationship with my Mother. She was quite the opposite of my Dad. She was quite assertive, aggressive would be the better way to say it, and sometimes forceful to extremes. She dominated my Dad. I think he tolerated it because it allowed him to be comfortable with his daily existence. I am sure that if he was not comfortable with it, he would have let us know in some way.
An example my parents relationship comes to mind. That of a woman and horse plowing a field. Him, the horse, providing the brute strength to break the ground. She, seeing the greater goal, providing the direction and purpose to achieve it. Both contributing their best to reach the goal. Each in their own way taking care of the other, neither superior or inferior, just striving together to get through another day.
That is what my Dad was like. A loving, caring man that allowed his wife to set the family goals, and worked with her to achieve them.
I hope you understand. He had his weaknesses and strengths, just as we all have them. He got up every morning to face another day. I think that is the best way to remember him.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Recollections of my Father, Willard N. Overing
How I met my Dad.
I am writting about my memories of my Dad for some very special people. So that they may know him as I do, a loving father. I hope you understand.
When I was 12 years old my older brother had a paper route. I helped him on Sunday mornings with putting the papers together and delivering them. We would wake up at 4:00 am to begin the process of assembling, or stuffing, the different sections of the paper together, then go off into the dark morning to deliver them. It was a long and tiring task that usually took from 4:00 am until after the sun came up to complete. For this I was supposed to get paid some amount of money, probably 50 cents, which actually happened on occasion.
One Sunday morning we awoke to find a strange man sleeping on the couch. Now you have to understand that our mother was divorced, and this was 1958 in small town southern Indiana. Not the usual occurance to say the least. The day prior had been Kentucky Derby day. Cause of much celebration and bourbon consumption in our neck of the woods. My Mom could party with the best of them, and had apparently brought someone home after the party was over. This is how I met the man who would become my Dad.
My brother and I stuffed and delivered the papers as usual, talking about the man on the couch. Who was he? Where did he come from? And why was he sleeping on our couch? When we returned home, my Mom and her new friend, hiding their hangovers, were fixing breakfast. Mom told us that she had meet her friend at a post Derby party at a nightclub the night before. That he was a soldier stationed at Fort Knox and that his ride back to the post had abandoned him at the party. Mom had kindly offered to bring him home to sleep on the couch, and would take him to Fort Knox the next day. We ate our breakfast and talked to this stranger. His name was Willard Overing, a Sargent First Class in the Army, but he said we could call him "Sarge". He was a cook in the Army and he was friendly. He told us that he had been stationed in the Orient, Japan and Korea, for 7 years, before being stationed at Fort Knox. He told us that he had a daughter in Japan, and that her name was June. Quite exotic for a young boy in southern Indiana.
"Sarge" and my mother continued to date for over a year, and then got married. For the first time I could remember, I had a father. What a change in my life, but more on that later.
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