A Tribute To My Father

I grew up on the road. Traveling back and forth across the country. And across the ocean between Hawaii and the mainland US.

The sights and sounds were beautiful.

My parents were musicians. They traveled and played in towns and cities far and wide.

Our home, whether on the road or back in the house with the family, was always filled with music and laughter.

My Dad taught us to love humor and he was so talented he could play any instrument.

I used to sit in as he rehearsed the band and Mom sang, and as young as I was I never quite understood why they never finished the song.

He had been a recording star in Japan and Hawaii right out of high school.

In fact, he introduced Frank Sinatra in Tokyo and his first band (The Jokers) and hit song ("Here is Happiness" aka "Koko ni Sachiari") suggested joy and revelry.

His humor was infused with clever pop culture references that I finally understood as an adult many years later.

I think he inspired all of us to pursue our dreams and live life to the fullest. He was a gifted, resilient survivor, which ran in the family. My first memory of Dad was his encouraging me to never give up. And he wanted us to be happy and not get discouraged by life's many challenges. When I was young he gave me the name Sachiko (like his song Happiness) evocative of his life's pursuit of bringing joy through laughter and music. He encouraged all of us to hang in there and persevere. He taught us the importance of pursuing an education, which inspired so many of us to become writers, lawyers, teachers, scholars, professors and musicians. I'll never forget how he flew in from Hawaii to surprise me at graduation with an arm full of leis and a big smile. I'm sure many of us in my family can share similar stories of his vibrant love of life and warm, irrepressible aloha spirit. The last time I heard his voice was a few days ago, on Thanksgiving. He passed away the next morning. He was so full of life and brought so much inspiration to so many people that I cannot even imagine he's not here.

I remember when Dad and Mom returned to Hawaii after many years on the road and took this beautiful picture just before my brother was born.

I remember riding with Dad on the road, watching the stars out the window and listening to the music on the radio as he drove from one gig to another. The story of how he and Mom found a kitten in his jacket in the car who traveled with them from hotel to hotel.

Dad was also a really good cook, like many in our family. I once tried to surprise him with breakfast when I was young, and everything was a mess, yet he valiantly tried to eat it then said, "Let's go get breakfast."

I remember when he chased our dog Nikki all the way down the steep hill on Wilhelmina Rise or when he took us to see the comedy Young Frankenstein after he saw it on the plane to Hawaii and the other passengers thought he was crazy for laughing so hard at an old black and white movie.

On one of Dad's final journeys to the mainland, my brother took this photo of him and wrote a beautiful tribute to Dad, Following the Tracks For Dad.

Dad's amazing spirit lives on in the many wonderful moments that capture his legacy in all the lives that he touched and inspired.

The last time I saw him, as sick as he was, he ran over to pick me some flowers from a plumeria tree nearby and said, "Take these with you, Sheri. They'll smell good. It'll make you think of home."

I'll never forget his kind encouragement, warm heart and inspiring resilient spirit. It lives on in all of us.

We miss you, Dad.
Ganbatte ne.