Tuesday, July 11, 2017

I am in!!  Yesterday Carolynn called from La Costa Glen to to ask what unit I would like and when I would like to move in.  She had called me Friday but called the wrong number!

Now I will have to get busy!   She is sending a big book of stuff that I will have to sign, sending it Fed X one day delivery since we are leaving for Mammoth on Thursday.     

Love,  Val



At Wendy's persuasion I am going to write about Japan.  Since the best way is to just plunge in, here we go.


POOR BABES IN THE WOODS

There was in Yokohama, at that time,  (1937), a number of British, Canadian, and US ex-pats, variously employed in shipping, oil, and other business the Japanese encouraged.  Since all foreign currency was valued  much higher than the Japanese yen, the English speaking foreigners lived high on the hog.

My father worked for the Canadian Pacific Steamship Company.  We lived in a bungalow in the gaijin area of Yokohama on the Bluff Road.  We had two servants, a Japanese married couple, who lived in a small matted room in the back.

With their circle of friends from the Yokohama Country and Athletic Club they entertained at home quite frequently.  It was customary for children to 'perform' in front of guests before being hustled off to bed.  I was required to memorize a poem suitable for the occasion.  In my Liberty print dress (and pants to match) I would stand before the audience and dutifully recite this dreadful poem!

My dear, do you know how a long time ago
Two poor little children, whos names I don't know
Were stolen away on a fine summer's day
And left in a wood, as I've head people say.

Poor babes in the wood, poor babes in the wood
Oh, don't you remember the babes in the wood?

And when t was night, so sad was their plight
For the sun it went down, and the moon gave no light
And they sobbed and they sighed, and they bitterly cried
And the poor little things, they lay down and died.

Poor babes in the wood, poor babes in the wood
Oh don't you remember the babes in the wood?

And when they were dead, the robins so red
Brought strawberry leaves and over them spread
And all the night long, the branches among
They mournfully whistled, and this was their song.

Poor babes in the wood, poor babes in the wood
(and this last line, my father told me later, I galloped through with a smile on my face)
OHDONTYOUREMEMBERTHE BABESINTHE WOOD?

Then I was to curtsey,  say "Goodnight all"  and leave.  For some reason, I felt, at age four, that it was terribly wrong  to say "goodnight ALL".  Why not just "goodnight "and be done with this hideous nonsense?  That poem is etched in my brain, and will be the last thing I forget should I lose my memory.