Old Friends

By Peggie Law

When I was a teenager during the Second World War, we lived on the north end of Vancouver Island and the threat of war was often closer here than to other Canadians. It meant Japanese submarines sighted on the northern waters, black out curtains, and men in ARP uniforms carrying guns, and patrolling the surrounding areas.

My very good friend was a Japanese girl named Yayeko Adachi. She was the youngest in the family, having four older brothers. These boys were very protective of Yayeko, and she was very shy and loved by everyone. The term “Japanese” did not mean a great deal to us until December 7, 1941.

Early in 1942, we got the sad news that the family was on its way to Tabor, Alberta. Our parents told us nothing of what was going on until the family had shipped out. An entire family spirited away with no way of finding out what was happening.

I had a letter from Yayeko a few months after this, and we wrote each other often but the prospect of ever meeting again was very dim. The first thing that had to be done was having all the Japanese names changed to English, so Yayeko became Faith, and the boys became Roy, Harry, Ken and Sid. They lived in communities with other Japanese families and were all put to work in the sugar beet fields. The sad part was that if a family was mixed, the Caucasian parent was not allowed in the community. Fortunately the Adachi family was not a mixed one.

Over the years, we kept in touch by mail. We both married, Faith to her Japanese sweetheart, Frank. We had children, exchanged pictures, but had no verbal communication.

In 1970, my sister and her family arrived from Menzies Bay at Calgary Alberta, where their son was a member of the Calgary City Police Force. It was a great change for a small town girl and she was very homesick. So, in 1972, when her son decided to get married, it was a good time for my father, my mother and me, to travel to Calgary to join in the festivities. It would also be a good time to travel a little farther south to Lethbridge, where my good friends, Faith and Frank, had moved after the war,

As everyone was deep in wedding preparations, it was a golden opportuity. Just one phone call and plans were set in motion.  It was to be a one-day visit, but Faith had time to notify her brothers. We were met with great enthusiasm by most of Faith’s family. Her mother had passed away, but her father was very much alive, and in very good health. Three of her older children were there, as were three of her brothers. It was truly a warm and wonderful greeting.

It was a marvellous afternoon. They took us to see the beautiful gardens that the Japanese citizens had presented to Lethbridge, as well as other beauty spots in the city. Then back to the Sato’s lovely home for a scrumptious family dinner. As my mother and father had known the Adachi’s since 1928, there were old memories, to reminisce over and many new ones to build.

When the Sato’s four older children had reached their teens, Faith and Frank became surprised parents of another little boy. Determined not raise him as a single child they decided to try again and little Kenji had arrived. This little boy was a lovable, curious, now five year old. He seemed to take an instant shine to my father, seldom leaving his place beside my father’s knee, taking in every word but being quiet himself. However during a slight silence, he looked at my father, and said “Mr. Smith, how come you call my grandpa Charlie, and I have to call him Grandpa?” This brought a laugh to everyone and was a good note on which to end the visit.

We promised to keep in touch and hoped to meet again. Faith came to visit in Victoria several times but I always seemed to be out of town. I never saw her again, as she passed away in 1987, but I think of her often. She was such a sweet, gracious lady, who made a great impression on everyone.