Childhood on Maui

By Michael M. Morisaki

This is an Autobiography of my childhood years in
Wailuku, Maui in Hawaii. It covers primarily my life in
a home for girls from age three to twelve without adult
guidance, followed by six years with my father. It illustrates
how I developed my basic character, formed my outlook on
life and made plans for the future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469172774

Michael M. Morisaki

I spent my childhood in Wailuku, Maui in Hawaii. I am a retired physician, attorney and real estate broker in Los Angeles, California. My educational background: BS Magna Cum Laude, Marquette University; MD With Distinction, University of Michigan Medical School; Internship, The Mount Sinai Hospital in NYC; Medical Residency, The Mayo Clinic; JD, Loyola Law School in Los Angeles. I won the annual James Clavell Literary Award for my story returning Alone to Maui in 1997 for my story, Returning Alone to Maui, and authored two Novellas: MD-JD in 2011 and Sex in Different Packages in 2012. I won the annual James Clavell Literary Award for my story Returning Alone to Maui in 1997.

Book preview

Childhood

on

Maui

Michael M. Morisaki

Copyright © 2012 by Michael M. Morisaki.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2012903540

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4691-7276-7

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4691-7275-0

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4691-7277-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

111329

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter One

My First Day at Home

Mommy. Mommy. Where are you, Mommy?

She’s not here.

Where’s Mommy? I want Mommy.

I told you. She’s not here.

But you said—

You’ll see her . . . someday.

My father pulled me through the front door of the home.

But why can’t I stay at home with you, Daddy?

They’ll take care, good care, of you here. I’ll see you next week.

But where’s Mommy? Let me stay with you, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl. I promise.

She’s gone. You’ll see her . . . someday.

A woman with glasses and gray hair rolled up into a bun came and said, Good morning. So this is Michan. She turned toward an older girl who was watching us. Masayo, take Michan and show her her room. She’ll be with you and the other girls.

Masayo said, Come, Michan, Okusan wants you to be with us. She took my hand and led me up a wide stairway. I had never been in such a big house before, and never one with a third story. The bedroom on the second floor was roomy, with eight wooden beds arranged in two rows. This is yours, Michan, next to mine.

Masayo saw me begin to cry. She drew me against her as I cried and wet her skirt. Then I felt her body shake, and I could hear her cry. She wiped her face with her hands and dried my face with her skirt.

So began my first day of my nine years at the home for girls.

Masayo was pretty. Her straight black hair was cut across below the ears like mine. She didn’t say much but smiled at me often. She’d look away at times, and I could see tears flowing down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. She took me downstairs, then outside and onto the front steps. Daddy was gone.

How old are you, Michan? I showed her three fingers. Masayo said, I was three too when I came here. That was four years ago. She pressed me against her body and hugged me. It’s lunchtime. We’d better be on time, or there won’t be anything left. And Okusan will scold us.

I grabbed her skirt and hung on as we entered the dining hall on the first floor. There were two long wooden tables laid end-to-end. The wooden benches on each side of the tables were nearly filled with girls. They moved over to let us sit.

The girls turned toward us, then continued eating. Masayo served me a bowl of clear fish soup and placed two slices of white bread beside it. She helped me with the guava jelly and butter and poured me a cup of cocoa. She then helped herself.

No one said much. We were too busy eating. The others occasionally glanced at me and straightened up when Okusan passed by. I watched the cocoa disappear in my white cup until I could no longer see the light reflected from the two lightbulbs hanging on long cords from the high ceiling. The room was dark without them. I looked at Masayo, who shook her head. There were no seconds.

After we left the dining hall, several of us followed Masayo, who guided us along the side of Main Street, which runs into the West Maui Mountain—there were no sidewalks—to a nearby irrigation ditch. From the overhanging branches of the guava trees along the ditch, we picked the yellow fruits to satisfy our hunger. From other taller trees, we shook off the purple plums that stained our fingers and lips as we tasted their sweetness. We avoided stepping on them with our bare feet. No one wore shoes or slippers.

Masayo helped the younger girls like me as we climbed down the stone-lined walls of the ditch. The cool water flowed up to our ankles. I felt the smooth pebbles under my feet. Masayo washed my lips and got me to wash my hands. We drank water with cupped hands.

Two of the girls started to splash each other with water. They laughed and screamed. One of the older girls said, Okusan will be angry if you wet your dress.

As I waded in the cool water of the ditch, I saw a bird—a yellow-beaked mynah—pecking