Read Online From a Town on the Hudson by Yuko Koyano - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Yuko Koyano
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had come back to the class recently. She seemed to like straw hats. In the beginning, she often used the former instructor's name, Atsuko, for my name, Yuko. Not only Atsuko but also other former instructors were still remembered by some members in the class. I think Louise must have enjoyed her previous class, too. With us, she made a pretty standing doll.
Ethel was quiet and eager. As she sat near Elmie, she pleasantly went about making many beautiful dolls. She had a daughter who was my age. I thought she must be a happy wife because once I saw her husband when he came to pick her up from class, and he looked nice.
Mary Louise was a new member of the class. She was a gentle person, and when she talked to us she whispered. She said that was because she couldn't speak English fluently. "Me, too!" I said to her. Therefore, we three teachers and Mary Louise whispered with one another. She made a standing doll.
Martha was nice. When she was in the class, the atmosphere of the room became more cheerful. She was the first lady who gave me the confidence to do the job, because in the fall of 1987, Martha wanted to make a Japanese geisha-girl doll using the body of regular girl doll with a big round face, fat stomach, and short legs. I helped her for four weeks as my first big job. Though it might not have been a slender doll, she was delighted to see the completed doll and named it after me.
Alice had been a perpetual member of the class for fifteen years. Since she was charming and funny, everybody loved her. She usually came to hug and kiss everybody in the class, saying, "God bless you!" She was the lady who made me get used to being hugged and kissed. When she didn't come into the class, I missed her. One day, I said to myself as I looked at the door of the classroom, "Alice hasn't come in yet today, has she?" Rose heard that and teased me, saying, "You must miss being kissed, Yuko."
Muriel was a lively, beautiful person. She looked young for her age. When she was very happy, I felt as if I caught some of her happiness. She was also creative, making a new type of baby doll with a ready-made rubber face and hands, with one hand holding a bottle.
Betty was ninety years old, I think. She made a pretty doll for her three-month-old great-great-granddaughter. Betty stitched the doll and dress quickly and finished them neatly. One morning, a few weeks later, she was sitting in the class when I entered the room. As she recognized me, she stood up, tottering a little and said, "I can't make dolls anymore, but I came here to see you." Walking slowly with her cane, she left the class. I instinctively bowed my head to that respected lady who had given me a moment of honor.
Dora hadn't returned to the class since she had gone home holding her big doll in a shiny red dress. Hilija, who had gone home with a baby doll, and another lady who liked kewpie dolls hadn't come back either, and I missed them.
ON DECEMBER 6, 1989, the doll-making class welcomed a new lady who looked to be in her late eighties. She didn't seem to want to join the class herself. Elaine, the director of the senior citizens center, and the lady's middle-aged son talked to her as if they were coaxing a child into the hospital. In the end, the elderly mother agreed to observe the class for the time being, and so she took a seat. As soon as Elaine and the lady's son left the room, most members of the class who had waited impatiently started speaking to her at the same time. The lady was from Hungary and seemed to be unable to speak English fluently, as Elaine had explained. She sat with a look of confusion upon hearing the ladies' welcomes fill the room.
When I began to cut the fabric for the dress for Muriel's baby doll at the table by the window, Rose, who had been sitting with her back to me, suddenly stood up and went over to the Hungarian lady. Rose weakly smiled at the lady and then touched her shoulder. Crouching a little, she began speaking eagerly to
Ethel was quiet and eager. As she sat near Elmie, she pleasantly went about making many beautiful dolls. She had a daughter who was my age. I thought she must be a happy wife because once I saw her husband when he came to pick her up from class, and he looked nice.
Mary Louise was a new member of the class. She was a gentle person, and when she talked to us she whispered. She said that was because she couldn't speak English fluently. "Me, too!" I said to her. Therefore, we three teachers and Mary Louise whispered with one another. She made a standing doll.
Martha was nice. When she was in the class, the atmosphere of the room became more cheerful. She was the first lady who gave me the confidence to do the job, because in the fall of 1987, Martha wanted to make a Japanese geisha-girl doll using the body of regular girl doll with a big round face, fat stomach, and short legs. I helped her for four weeks as my first big job. Though it might not have been a slender doll, she was delighted to see the completed doll and named it after me.
Alice had been a perpetual member of the class for fifteen years. Since she was charming and funny, everybody loved her. She usually came to hug and kiss everybody in the class, saying, "God bless you!" She was the lady who made me get used to being hugged and kissed. When she didn't come into the class, I missed her. One day, I said to myself as I looked at the door of the classroom, "Alice hasn't come in yet today, has she?" Rose heard that and teased me, saying, "You must miss being kissed, Yuko."
Muriel was a lively, beautiful person. She looked young for her age. When she was very happy, I felt as if I caught some of her happiness. She was also creative, making a new type of baby doll with a ready-made rubber face and hands, with one hand holding a bottle.
Betty was ninety years old, I think. She made a pretty doll for her three-month-old great-great-granddaughter. Betty stitched the doll and dress quickly and finished them neatly. One morning, a few weeks later, she was sitting in the class when I entered the room. As she recognized me, she stood up, tottering a little and said, "I can't make dolls anymore, but I came here to see you." Walking slowly with her cane, she left the class. I instinctively bowed my head to that respected lady who had given me a moment of honor.
Dora hadn't returned to the class since she had gone home holding her big doll in a shiny red dress. Hilija, who had gone home with a baby doll, and another lady who liked kewpie dolls hadn't come back either, and I missed them.
ON DECEMBER 6, 1989, the doll-making class welcomed a new lady who looked to be in her late eighties. She didn't seem to want to join the class herself. Elaine, the director of the senior citizens center, and the lady's middle-aged son talked to her as if they were coaxing a child into the hospital. In the end, the elderly mother agreed to observe the class for the time being, and so she took a seat. As soon as Elaine and the lady's son left the room, most members of the class who had waited impatiently started speaking to her at the same time. The lady was from Hungary and seemed to be unable to speak English fluently, as Elaine had explained. She sat with a look of confusion upon hearing the ladies' welcomes fill the room.
When I began to cut the fabric for the dress for Muriel's baby doll at the table by the window, Rose, who had been sitting with her back to me, suddenly stood up and went over to the Hungarian lady. Rose weakly smiled at the lady and then touched her shoulder. Crouching a little, she began speaking eagerly to
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