October, 2000, LOS ANGELES - I was en route to Dulles Airport in Washington, D.C., on my way home from my commission meeting when it happened. But I didn't learn of it until I landed back at LAX, in Los Angeles. Brad Altman, my business manager, informed me that my mother, Fumiko Emily Takei, had been rushed to the hospital and undergone emergency surgery.
I raced directly to the hospital. I was told that she had just come out of the operating room and was now in the intensive care ward. They said I was allowed to see her. I went in expecting the worst but I was still shaken when I saw Mama. My mother had tubes coming out of every part of her body - from her nose, through her mouth, from her stomach and so many from her thin, shriveled arms. Her half lidded eyes were dim and unseeing. It was devastating to see Mama like that.
The doctor told me that she had a perforation in her stomach through which gastric acid and blood were pouring into her abdomen causing her excruciating pain. If she hadn't been brought to the hospital in time, he said, it could have been fatal. I asked for her prognosis but he would not venture anything -- only that they would monitor the situation and go in 24-hour increments. That weekend at the hospital was to be the most harrowing of my life. Finally, on Monday, they told me that she had survived the surgery and that there was guarded expectation of a slow recovery.
We had such happy plans for her. The following week, on September 29, she was to have turned 88 years old and we had a gala birthday party scheduled for her at the Japanese American National Museum. Forty of her friends and relatives were to have gathered from near and as far away as Toronto, Canada, to help her celebrate this special birthday. All that now had to be postponed. Mama turned 88 in a hospital room with masses of life-sustaining tubes connected to her small body. But she did have a bevy of flowers and lots of get well cards surrounding her.
Mama has been living with me for the past two years. I moved her from the house in which she had been living for almost fifty years, the house she had shared with my father for thirty years until his death in 1979, the house in which I grew up. It was a house so filled with life memories. But she had to be moved from there into my house because she was in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. She was forgetting to take her medication, the cause of her first hospitalization. At my house, her care would be better monitored. I have a caregiver and my trusted business manager and friend, Brad, to help me out. At first, Mama thrived in my home.
But I began to sense some strange behaviors from Mama. She complained constantly of dust in the house. I was puzzled. My housekeeper keeps my home immaculate. I'd run my finger over the furniture to show her that there was no dust. Still, she complained. She habitually placed paper napkins over exposed food in the house, saying it's to protect them from the dust. Some mornings, she said that she'd wake up with a coat of dust on her face. So, I went into her room the next morning and woke her up by running my hand over her face. "See Mama," I pointed out to her. "There's no dust on your face." Yet, she would not stop. Her dust complaints were ceaseless and it was getting irritating. Then it dawned on me. When we were in the internment camp at Tule Lake during the war, I remembered dust everywhere. The cold wind blew the hard, gritty dust in through the spaces in the floorboard and through the knotholes into our flimsy barrack rooms. The mess hall where we took our meals always covered exposed food to protect them from the dust. Dust was a constant, relentless problem in camp. Mama, I realized, was reverting back to our days of incarceration in that World War II internment camp. It was heartbreaking.
But there were also times of joy and sharing. I used to take my mother on daily walks around the neighborhood. I'd point out the new flowers that had bloomed or the billowy white clouds up in the sky. And she would point out a great, old pine tree and tell me that it was a giant "bonsai." Once she told me of the time when I was a toddler and she used to take me out for walks. My favorite ways of teasing her, she said, was my running away from her and, when she tried to chase after me, I would run farther away giggling with great glee. These experiences from only a month ago before her hospitalization now seem like stories out of some distant past.
Mama came back from the hospital last Wednesday. Her scar from the surgery is healing steadily. But the trauma of the operation had dramatically altered her mental condition. It seems as though there is a new person inhabiting my Mama every twelve hours. At times, she adamantly refuses to talk - only a nod or a shake of the head, only a demanding point to things she wants. Then there are times when she is as charming as a coquettish little girl followed by other times when she is as feisty and combative as a bad drunk.
I savor the small joys when and where I can find them -- like this morning at breakfast. She was looking sleepy so I put my brightly smiling face right in front of her. She promptly mimicked my beaming face. Then I put on an expression of surprise and she immediately put on an exaggerated look of astonishment. When I frowned, she frowned. We spent breakfast time mugging and laughing. She is truly the mother of an actor.
I'm hoping that her return from the hospital to known surroundings and familiar patterns will help slow down the inevitable and relentless process of her disease. But I also know that I'm saying many good-byes every day to the Mama that I had.
2005, A beloved friend has passed. James Doohan was admired by so many. Star Trek fans throughout the world loved Engineer Montgomery Scott and came to know Jimmy, the actor who portrayed him, from the countless conventions all over the world that became a part of his life. He loved meeting fans. He was an exuberant people person. Jimmy reveled in laughing, talking, and, especially, drinking with people. He embraced the joy of living with the gusto of a Falstaff.
Jimmy was big and generous with everything - he shared his pleasures, his dislikes, his passions, and, most generously, his luminous gift as an actor. He was fascinating to watch on screen, on the boards in a theater, or on a convention stage. He brought his life in all his robustness to his work. Jimmy was Scotty. He famously said, "Scotty is 99 percent me and 1 percent accent." To me, Scotty was 100 percent Jimmy's talent for conferring his entire being to his work. Jimmy's life radiated from every role he played. Whether as a Scottish Starfleet engineer on screen, as an English barrister on stage, or making an appearance at a convention, Jimmy's life was fully and beamingly there. He was always compelling.
Jimmy was one of a kind. He was a joy to work with. I loved doing scenes with him. Jimmy gave so much. His generosity as an actor was remarkable. He could also be a considerate adviser. When I was having trouble with a particular phrase in my dialogue, he'd give me suggestions from his bountiful bag of experience. During some of the inevitable boring waits between set-ups, he was fun to be with on the set. When he got grumpy, it was best to leave the set.
For a time, before he moved to Redmond, Washington, Jimmy was my special drinking buddy. We shared some blissful times together. He loved his Scotch. He was of Irish ancestry but he said he had imbibed enough of the libation of Scotland to qualify him as a Scotsman. When his doctor told him he had to quit drinking Scotch, he dutifully complied. He switched to vodka. He introduced me to the pleasures of a lovely wine - Chateauneuf du Pape. I introduced him to the delights of sushi. Jimmy, with his characteristic passion, took to the delectable flavors of raw fish from his first bite. His spirit of adventure was in his palate as well as his soul.
Jimmy Doohan was a hearty, down-to-earth guy. Now, he will be more than that. He has asked that his remains be shot out to space.
That is so you, Jimmy.
When all of us who loved you look up at the vastness of the twinkling night sky, we'll know that you are truly there among the stars, beaming down at us from the heavens with that wonderful, sparkling smile of yours.
May, 2005 May is Asian American Heritage month. It seems this month has become a time when I am called upon to share my thoughts on the contributions Asian Americans have made to this country with diverse groups. Two years ago, I toured U.S. military bases in Germany speaking of Asian American history. Last year, I was in Little Rock, Arkansas, for the opening of eight museum exhibits, a major symposium, and a speech on the subject. This month began with a return to Little Rock with a similar mission, this time at nearby Camp Pike to the U.S. Army, 90th Regional Readiness Command. These are the men and women of the U.S. military who have served or are ready to serve in the hot spots of today such as Iraq and Afghanistan. After my speech, I enjoyed a good southern fried catfish lunch with a group of the committee members. It was a privilege to share some time and thoughts with soldiers who are serving us so proudly.
Then it was on to Louisville, Kentucky, and a different but equally special audience. It was one hundred bright, young high school students from throughout the nation. They were being honored at a banquet with scholarships from Toyota Motor Sales U.S.A. I served as the keynote speaker at the dinner. These young people are the cream of the crop - smart, energized scholars, who had, as well, contributed to the betterment of their respective communities in various ways. It was an uplift just to be in the company of these spirited young leaders of tomorrow.
The big challenges were across the Pacific in Japan. The Japanese American National Museum, which I served as Chairman of the Board for two terms and still serve as a Trustee, had scheduled its first board meeting outside the U.S. in Tokyo.
We want to contribute to strengthening our bridge across the Pacific in U.S.- Japan relations. In conjunction with our board meeting, we held a major symposium on U.S.- Japan relations. I was a part of the U.S. panel together with Senator Daniel Inouye of Hawaii and General Eric Shinseki, former Army Chief of Staff. It was a rare opportunity to share the experience of Japanese Americans with the leadership of the people of Japan. All Americans, I strongly believe, can contribute, each in our own way, to the betterment of America as a member of this global society. Japanese Americans can serve in a unique way in our relations with Japan. The symposium, meetings, press interviews, and personal conversations were engaging exchanges and we were handsomely received. Foreign Minister of Japan, Nobutaka Machimura, hosted us to a lavish reception at Japan's diplomatic residence, Iikura House. U.S. Ambassador Thomas Schieffer similarly hosted us the following evening at the historic U.S. Ambassador's residence that General Douglas MacArthur had once called home.
After our many diplomatic events in Tokyo, we traveled to the World Expo at Aichi near Nagoya. This massive exposition sprawled over a vast green valley. It would have required days to visit just the highlights of this Expo. We had only five hours. However, we had with us a special entrée - in our party were two VIPs, a U.S. Senator and a U.S. General.
As long lines of people waited patiently at the pavilion entrances, we were quickly whisked past them and escorted in through a back way. We were able to visit a few of the major exhibits in the limited time that we had. At the Expo Theme Pavilion, we saw a rare discovery - the frozen remains of a prehistoric woolly mammoth; at the Toyota Pavilion we saw a spectacular Cirque de Soleil-like show featuring a single passenger futuristic concept vehicle and a musical band made up of anthropomorphic robots. At the Hitachi Pavilion, we saw exhibits that demonstrated nature and technology working together to protect the environment. On the way to another pavilion, we walked past a long "green wall" about two stories tall with a huge diversity of plants growing from it. We were told that "walls" like these would help counter global warming. Finally, after a fast and exhausting tour, we ended our visit to the Aichi Expo at the United States Pavilion. We were greeted by a giant holographic image of Benjamin Franklin speaking in Japanese - of all unexpected things - as well as in English. This year is his 300th birthday and the U.S. exhibit was on electricity and of Franklin's discovery of the proof of electricity with lightening.
From lightening to the futuristic Segway human transporter vehicle, it was a comprehensive exhibit on the powers of electricity. The visit ended with a relaxing reception in the Benjamin Franklin Room. An African American young woman serving as a guide impressed me. She spoke rather good Japanese. It was heartening to see young Americans learning foreign languages, going abroad, and serving as citizen ambassadors to the world.
The other mission of this trip to Japan was a promotional tour for my autobiography, "To the Stars," which had just been published in Japanese translation. Titled "Hoshi ni Mukatte," I wanted the fans of Japan to know of its publication. I did radio, television, and newspaper interviews, and, of course, the inevitable bookstore signings. I even did a college lecture on Japanese American history at Bukkyo University in Kyoto. A book signing also followed this event.
The word is now out in Japan about my autobiography, "Hoshi ni Mukatte."
My reward for all this exciting but also fatiguing tour was a fabulous treat - a classic geisha party in the storied geisha district of Gion hosted by the publisher of my book, Mr. Ito. Two elegantly charming geishas in lovely kimonos and elaborate headdresses greeted our party at the entrance and ushered us upstairs to a spacious traditional room The long black lacquer table had been set with glistening lacquer bento boxes. My geisha smiled and gestured me to my thick cushion on the soft tatami floor. From that point on, I was completely in her care. She lifted the top off my lacquer box to reveal a sumptuous meal. She suggested I raise my tiny sake cup up to her and she poured the hot liquor for me with a gracefulness only a geisha can perform. As I sampled the delectable morsels from my lacquer box, she continued to charm me with her wit and sparkling laughter.
She even took my chopsticks from me and fed me some delicious bits from my box. However, she did not eat with me. Her role was to simply serve me and keep me charmed. My manager, Brad Altman, sitting across from me, also had his own personal geisha serving and delighting him. After the meal, the two geishas disappeared and a woman, who plays the samisen, or a stringed, guitar-like instrument, seated herself off to the side of the sliding shoji door. Cued by her first "twang" on the samisen, the shoji doors silently slid open to reveal my geisha in a classic dance pose. The music began and her lyrical movements, like flower petals swaying in a soft spring breeze, transported all of us. The shoji closed, then, re-opened to delight us with the second geisha's dance. Hers was just as lovely, just as transporting. This must have been what it was like to be a shogun in old Japan. We were literally beamed back in time.
Then, the silliness began. I was invited up by my geisha to play the "paper, rock, scissors" game with her. The loser had to sip some sake. I lost often. Once she had me well loosened, I was invited to join them in a "baseball dance" geisha style. I clumsily tried to imitate her graceful movements. I made a laughing fool of myself - but according to tradition, one is supposed to act like a giddy ninny at a geisha party. So, I was being very traditional that night at a classic geisha house in the Gion. It was an enchanting evening I will long remember. I savored that memory the next morning as well. Is that what is called a "hangover?"
The translation, publication, and the fond memories of the promotional tour for my autobiography would not have been possible had it not been for the good efforts of Rev. Chiyu Sadakane and his charming daughter, Yumi-san. They did a fine job of translating "To the Stars" into "Hoshi ni Mukatte." My heartfelt gratitude goes out to them for having made a long held dream a reality beyond all expectations. Domo arigatoh gozaimasu.
April, 2005, LOS ANGELES -- Early in the month of April, I'm always reminded of the approach of my birthday by the arrival of the first birthday card. Then, the birthday e-mails start up. These begin mounting, coming from all over the country and, in fact, from all parts of the world, until there is no way of ignoring the fact. I'm about to age again. On April 20, my age and birthday are announced to the world by the media - newspapers, radio, and television. The phone starts ringing with cheery congratulatory calls.
Thank you, to all my friends and fans for your good wishes. I appreciate your happy greetings. I am a year older and happier for it. I have reached that point in life when, instead of trying to avoid birthdays, I rejoice in them and hope to collect as many as I can. My grandmother was a great collector. She collected 105 of them!
This year, I received two wonderful and completely unexpected birthday presents. One is the publication of my autobiography, "To the Stars," in Japanese translation. It originally came out in 1994 in English and in 1997 in German. I had always hoped that it might be published in Japanese as well. I had talked to many Japan-based publishers with New York offices - all to no avail. I had almost given up on that dream. Then, last year, out of the clear blue sky, I got a phone call from Japan informing me that "To the Stars" was in the process of being translated into Japanese and would be out in the bookstores of Japan in April. Two weeks before my birthday, a copy of the book arrived hot off the press.
What a fantastic birthday present it was! The cover has an updated photo of me in a jet-black turtleneck shirt. The title is "Hoshi ni Mukatte," which translates as "toward the stars." The photos inside are the same ones as in "To the Stars" but, alas, I can't read the words. I speak Japanese fluently but reading and writing that language is something else. I will be flying to Japan in late May for a book signing tour in Tokyo and Kyoto. "Hoshi ni Mukatte" now has its proud place in my bookshelf alongside "To the Stars" and "Zu den Sternen," the German version. In the U.S., for those who read Japanese or collect all things Star Trek, "Hoshi ni Mukatte" will be available at the museum bookstore of the Japanese American National Museum in Los Angeles.
The second surprise birthday present came via another phone call - this one from the Producing Artistic Director of the East West Players, Tim Dang. He had been trying to secure the rights to Sir Peter Shaffer's powerful, award-winning drama "Equus" for some time. Alec McCowen had starred in the original production in London at the National Theater. On Broadway, it starred Anthony Hopkins, then Tony Perkins, and finally, my Star Trek colleague, Leonard Nimoy. In the film version, the great Richard Burton played the lead. Tim told me he had finally succeeded in securing the rights to "Equus" and that he would like to have me play the lead role. I was stunned!
The part of Martin Dysart, the psychiatrist who deals with a severely disturbed boy who commits a horrific act, is a role that I had secretly wished for, ever since I first saw the play in England. What a terrific and completely unexpected gift this was! I didn't hem and haw. Once I checked the dates on my calendar to make sure I was clear, I leaped at the offer. This would be a challenging and such a fulfilling opportunity. I won't be going into rehearsals until September but I've already begun working on the script. I can't wait to really get started working with the other actors. "Equus" opens at the East West Players on October 26 and runs through November. I hope you might be able to join us for the gala opening night in Los Angeles. If you can't, then do try to catch a performance sometime during our run. And, do come backstage to say hello and tell me what you think of my two surprising birthday presents.