night when she got off the streetcar at Brennan Street, one of Pat’s friends would be waiting for her. She and her escort would walk the two miles home. With each trip, her escort would build up the confidence to propose marriage. The first man to do so was Takatsugi, whom everyone just called Tak, a nice-looking man and a very close friend of Pat’s. Tak had been Mitsue’s neighbour for most of her life. Of all Pat’s friends, he was the one she was the most fond of.
One night Mitsue worked late at the dress shop. She didn’t arrive at Brennan Street until well after 8. Tak had been waiting there for over two hours. As soon as he saw Mitsue, he approached her and blurted out that he wanted to marry her. Mitsue did not hesitate; she turned him down. They kept walking. Tak was quiet at first and then he started to cry. They walked six blocks with him in tears.
He said over and over, “Why, why, why? Why not?”
Mitsue tried to comfort him. “It’s just strange for me, Tak. You’re like a brother. I’m sorry, but I have to say no.”
One down. Three to go.
Next Motoharu proposed. Then Minoru. Finally Ichiro. That was every one of Pat’s close friends. They all asked her the exact same way—walking home on Brennan Street, just a little after six o’clock.
After each proposal, Mitsue would go home and tell Pat. He would always shake his head and say the same thing: he was sorry and he would speak to them all again.
But it didn’t matter what Pat said to them. He could not deter his friends. Almost weekly, Mitsue would receive a renewed proposal. The boys would not give up. They asked over and over.
Everyone has that “one that got away.” Mitsue had four. The men in her life were attracted to her beauty, to be sure. It was a particular kind of beauty. You could see your whole life in it.
Then, on a sunny spring morning, a clean-cut, well-dressed man stepped into the dress shop. His name was Hideo Sakamoto. Mitsue was expecting him. Earlier that day, Mrs. Yamamoto had told her that a schoolmate from Kumamoto prefecture in Japan would be coming by for a visit.
When the man walked into the shop, he bowed and spoke warmly to Mrs. Yamamoto. It was clear they were good friends. He was a nice-looking man with an easy, honest smile. He was polite and well-mannered, even though he was in the lumber industry. The men in that field gambled and smoked and lived away from women, so most were too rough for Mitsue’s liking. Hideo was different—he was almost gentle. He was also well educated. Mitsue could tell that right away. He even came in with a book under his arm. Mitsue liked that.
Hideo worked in a paper mill, so he wasn’t around Vancouver much. He had to take a boat to get to the mill and it took some time, so he would only come in to Vancouver when he had a day off, and he didn’t get too many. Hideo’s parents operated a rooming house in Japantown, so he would stay with them as much as he could. His visits became more frequent after he met Mitsue.
The next time Hideo came to town, after cleaning himself upat his parents’ he went straight to the store. He had asked Mrs. Yamamoto beforehand if he could take Mitsue for a walk. She had agreed, even though there was lots of work to be done.
Hideo and Mitsue went for a walk around the Granville Island Bridge. They didn’t go far—Mitsue was thinking about the work that was waiting—but it was long enough. They walked a little closer than two strangers might. Mitsue could see that Hideo’s hands were clean and his hair was recently cut. He wore a suit and a new white shirt, a blue-striped tie, and suspenders. His clothes were freshly pressed. But it was his warm, honest smile that she liked the best. As they rounded the corner to the dress shop, Hideo told Mitsue that he would be back in a few weeks and would like to see her again. Mitsue said that would be nice.
Mitsue Oseki and Hideo Sakamoto on Hastings Street, Vancouver, July 12, 1941
She spent
One night Mitsue worked late at the dress shop. She didn’t arrive at Brennan Street until well after 8. Tak had been waiting there for over two hours. As soon as he saw Mitsue, he approached her and blurted out that he wanted to marry her. Mitsue did not hesitate; she turned him down. They kept walking. Tak was quiet at first and then he started to cry. They walked six blocks with him in tears.
He said over and over, “Why, why, why? Why not?”
Mitsue tried to comfort him. “It’s just strange for me, Tak. You’re like a brother. I’m sorry, but I have to say no.”
One down. Three to go.
Next Motoharu proposed. Then Minoru. Finally Ichiro. That was every one of Pat’s close friends. They all asked her the exact same way—walking home on Brennan Street, just a little after six o’clock.
After each proposal, Mitsue would go home and tell Pat. He would always shake his head and say the same thing: he was sorry and he would speak to them all again.
But it didn’t matter what Pat said to them. He could not deter his friends. Almost weekly, Mitsue would receive a renewed proposal. The boys would not give up. They asked over and over.
Everyone has that “one that got away.” Mitsue had four. The men in her life were attracted to her beauty, to be sure. It was a particular kind of beauty. You could see your whole life in it.
Then, on a sunny spring morning, a clean-cut, well-dressed man stepped into the dress shop. His name was Hideo Sakamoto. Mitsue was expecting him. Earlier that day, Mrs. Yamamoto had told her that a schoolmate from Kumamoto prefecture in Japan would be coming by for a visit.
When the man walked into the shop, he bowed and spoke warmly to Mrs. Yamamoto. It was clear they were good friends. He was a nice-looking man with an easy, honest smile. He was polite and well-mannered, even though he was in the lumber industry. The men in that field gambled and smoked and lived away from women, so most were too rough for Mitsue’s liking. Hideo was different—he was almost gentle. He was also well educated. Mitsue could tell that right away. He even came in with a book under his arm. Mitsue liked that.
Hideo worked in a paper mill, so he wasn’t around Vancouver much. He had to take a boat to get to the mill and it took some time, so he would only come in to Vancouver when he had a day off, and he didn’t get too many. Hideo’s parents operated a rooming house in Japantown, so he would stay with them as much as he could. His visits became more frequent after he met Mitsue.
The next time Hideo came to town, after cleaning himself upat his parents’ he went straight to the store. He had asked Mrs. Yamamoto beforehand if he could take Mitsue for a walk. She had agreed, even though there was lots of work to be done.
Hideo and Mitsue went for a walk around the Granville Island Bridge. They didn’t go far—Mitsue was thinking about the work that was waiting—but it was long enough. They walked a little closer than two strangers might. Mitsue could see that Hideo’s hands were clean and his hair was recently cut. He wore a suit and a new white shirt, a blue-striped tie, and suspenders. His clothes were freshly pressed. But it was his warm, honest smile that she liked the best. As they rounded the corner to the dress shop, Hideo told Mitsue that he would be back in a few weeks and would like to see her again. Mitsue said that would be nice.
Mitsue Oseki and Hideo Sakamoto on Hastings Street, Vancouver, July 12, 1941
She spent
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