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Diary Entry 1981-6 : Lavender’s Blue & the Children

Tag: English 1981 ← Please click here.
Tag: English 1982 ← Please click here.
Tag: English 1983 ← Please click here.
Other English Version ← Please click here.
b0071688_19114527.jpg

#Lavender’s Blue

I found a lavender soap. A friend of the Ōyamas said derisively, “Buying stuff like this! You must be some kind of a fancy missy.” However, the Oyamas’ 5-year old boy loved it. “What a nice smell!” he cried in delight.
On the 1st of August 1980, after a 14-year break I listened to the radio program “Basic English Continued”, and that is when I heard a Mother Goose song “Lavender’s Blue”.

My solfeggio professor at the Toronto Royal Conservatory of Music used “Laven-…” part of this song to help me recognise perfect 5th of a music interval. It’s a song that starts with “do-sol-sol-sol—fa-mi-re-do”, and if we sing the second that is at the beginning we can pick up the “perfect 5th” of the interval.

In place of the words, “When you are king, I shall be princess”, I secretly sing, “When Gould is Canadian king of the piano, I shall be queen”

Since I can’t practice the piano, I thought I couldn’t study music, but at the question, “Who told you so?” I sing the answer again and again, “Twas mine own heart, diddle, diddle, that told me so.”

My life in Vancouver is cozy. Mr. and Mrs. Ōyama are both working, and the whole family took me in warmly. The children are going to preschool. I spend day after day in a similar way. I pick the kids from the school, and while I’m at it I often put a letter to Japan in a mailbox.

I am visiting the English language school.
“Are you an immigrant?” asks the teacher.
“No, I’m not.”

“The policy of our school is to accept only immigrants. Why don’t you try and go to the Immigration Office?” he suggests.

Later I got a phone call from that same teacher, and he asked me if I had been to the Immigration Office.
“No, I haven’t. I am leaving for Toronto very soon.”
“Oh, it’s a pity. I was looking forward to seeing you. Do study and become proficient in English. I wish you all the best in Toronto.”
“Thank you for your call.”


#The Children

Mr. Ōyama’s mother went for a trip to Las Vegas. This left Mrs. Ōyama much busier with the domestic duties, and she ends our English conversations quickly. So, I go with other mothers from preschool to the park or to a restaurant. Later I realized this was a candid and guileless experience of Canada.

Oyama’s sons were born within a year of each other. They look like little Eskimos in two matching hooded coats. When the mischievous younger boy on the way from school gets too close to a neighbouring house, the older one is calling to him, “You mustn’t go there, they have a big dog there!”
His little brother ignores him and keeps plowing ahead. He disappears from our view, and in a moment we hear dog barks. At the same time the little boy is running back to us screaming, “Aaaah!”
A shepherd dog is running after him, playfully wagging its tail. It looks like the dog is going to bite his bottom any second now. Whereas I am rolling about with laughter, his big brother is not even smiling.

When we came back home, the big brother takes the younger one in his arms and says, “The dog barked at you. Did you get scared?” He couldn’t hold out any longer and so he burst into laughter. It can be nice having siblings.

Except for an occasional outburst of hypochondria on the part the father, the Oyamas’ is a peaceful and unselfish household, and the house carries a light scent of bergamot.

The Ōyamas make splendid food. On one occasion we had flounder for lunch, and all of us – both the adults and children – had one whole fish each.
Their younger son complained, “I don’t wanna eat this.”
“You are only four and yet you get to eat such a big fish all by yourself. When I was a kid, I couldn’t even dream of such a luxury,” his father said.

This kid is really daring, “All people drop poo. Poo-droppers!” he mocks.
Nobody liked my Kansai style udon noodles with nothing but soup and onions in it.

There were always people coming and going from the friendly Ōyama house. While the grandmother was on the trip, a baby-sitter who could tell fortune came to stay over instead of her. Since I love fortunetelling, I have her immediately tell my fortune.
Everything she says, “You are a lucky person, aren’t you. People are drawn to you and you are being virtually smothered with popularity,” are all pure fabrications.
b0071688_19121224.jpg

Translated by Saiko   



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by mhara21 | 2017-07-01 15:29 | 後追い日記81年 | Comments(0)
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