In a sea of lace and navy blue, Yoshiko-san looked lovely waiting for me in front of the New Yorker Hotel. It was July 1, 1982; and the 2,075 couple Blessing at Madison Square Garden had just finished. Yoshiko had changed from her wedding dress into something more comfortable. While waiting I had a coffee at Yummy Donuts, and listened to the waitresses commenting on the commotion. They had seen an endless stream of brides and grooms as they left the New Yorker to walk the short distance to Madison Square Gardens and were speculating on the separation period. "I wouldn't be able to wait one night," one said, pouring a coffee. I finished my cup just as my eternal mate exited the revolving doors. In a tan dress and a pink straw hat, Yoshiko looked like something Renoir could have painted.
"What
is your mother's favorite thing?" Yoshiko asked as we headed East on 34th.
At Macy's I demonstrated how my mother used to hold a cup up to the light to
see her finger behind it. "When was the last time you gave your mother her
favorite thing?" A cup with Lilies of the Valley, reminded me of the
flowers that grew in my mother's garden. I was curious about what Yoshiko wrote
on the note, when the clerk made the arrangements to send the gift to Canada.
We set off towards the Empire State Building and had lunch at Japanese restaurant near 5th and 34th. It was endearing to hear her say, "Stefan-San, you know to use chopsticks." The afternoon concluded with a few pictures in front of the Gardens, when we returned to the New Yorker to wait for the evening's entertainment.
We had only met a week earlier, in the Grand Ballroom of the New Yorker. While Rev. Moon was giving a speech to prepare us for the matching, Yoshiko was still up in the air. In fact her plane was making the final approach. The 250 Japanese sisters who arrived on that flight filed straight into the lobby of the New Yorker, straight into the grand ballroom to be matched. I had been perfectly calm up until Father said that he'd be matching people with lighting speed, like positive and negative coming together with a big bang. "What if father didn't match me to a Japanese sister." I thought. When the matching was about to begin it appeared as if none of the Japanese sisters had arrived.
While witnessing in the Boston Commons in the summer of 1980 I had encountered a typical Japanese with a dress and fine straw hat headed to meet a friend. In her hand was a white box of pastry tied up with a string, ready to present to the person she would visit. I was taken by her charming personality. Also, I had seen Amerasian kids and wanted to have children like that of my own, so I was sure I wanted a Japanese wife.
I was sitting with Debbie, my spiritual mother, just before the matching when the first wave of Japanese sisters filed through the lobby. I had already talked to Debbie about my trepidation concerning the matching, when she ran into me the prior evening at the long line of brothers waiting to pick up their wedding rings. She was always looking out for me. A month earlier at a CARP workshop in Aspen Colorado we'd been asked our preferences, and a good number, brothers and sisters alike, had stated that they wanted Japanese spouses. Most had indicated that they would accept anyone, from any race. The Japanese sisters walked in; Debbie sensed my enthusiasm was out of line and suggested we return to the Grand Ballroom.
Many of the Japanese sisters cried when Father entered the Ballroom, probably because it was their first time to be seeing him. Immediately Father divided the room into brothers and sisters, forming an aisle down the middle. I felt calm inside, sitting there, in the front row, on the edge of the aisle. It started with Father picking one brother and sister from countries most represented by our church. Korea, Japan, America Canada and Britain were among the first.
After matching all of these representatives but two, Father asked, "Who would like a Japanese wife?" My hand shot up, and I was chosen. Father took a second look and directed me to the Japanese sister in the navy blue dress with yellow polka dots. We went up to the balcony overlooking the grand ballroom as the matching continued and spoke through Mr. A the Japanese translator. Yoshiko asked what nationality I was, and I said Canadian. I asked if she could have children. She nodded. We both agreed to accept the match and went down and bowed to Father and Mother, and signed the register, the 12th couple to be matched.
We exited the grand ballroom to an impromptu paparazzi of camera flashes. Howard Self, my leader at the time, smiled as I passed by and said, "She's a doll." We went to a prayer room on the fourth floor, prayed, then to a nearby camera store to buy film. I was a budding photographer at that time, and in my excitement didn't load the film properly. None of the pictures came out.
As we sat in a booth at the Sona Bona restaurant Yoshiko showed me a black and white snapshot of her in a high school uniform, taken when she had just joined the church. Her spiritual father, Mr. Aoki, was there with us. I was quite moved looking at pictures of her parents, her two sisters, and photos of her stint in the Korean Folk Ballet. Yoshiko was doing fine in English, until at one point she broke out in her native tongue. Just then Debbie and her fiancée, Russel joined us. They were happy they were both on MFT (Mobile Fundraising Teams.) The restaurant hummed with pleasant pandemonium as more and more newly matched couples came by introducing themselves. Pictures were being taken everywhere.
Yoshiko and I found a quiet room, where I serenaded her with a few songs, starting with A Miracle America, and Imaginary Mountains. After Walking on Air she said "I've never been to a circus, but I have seen them on television." When I played the Japanese song, What Do You Think Happiness Is Yoshiko sang along.
When Yoshiko asked me for my favorite song, I said, "I haven't written that one yet, but when I do it will be about you."
A couple days after the matching we had the Holy Wine Ceremony in the Grand Ballroom. Father addressed the Blessed couples, all crammed in perfect rows to drink Holy Wine from thimble sized cups on silver platters. It was touching the way Yoshiko struggled to say my name three times. When we placed our hands together, I tried to have the holiest attitude. The handkerchiefs which had wine sprinkled on them were to be put in a safe place until it was time to start families, in some three and a half years. After the ceremony brothers and sisters waved their holy handkerchiefs to dry around the upper balcony of the lobby.
The next morning Yoshiko helped with the sewing of the Japanese sisters' wedding dresses; I went with Debbie to buy a blue navy suit. I ended up buying a three-piece polyester suit for about $50.00. That was about all that I could afford since I was working as a volunteer without pay.
Over afternoon tea at the Statler Hilton Yoshiko, a translator named Yoko and I shared about our families. We exchanged our parent's address — but Yoshiko warned me not to write yet, because she wanted to break the news of our marriage in person. I gave her a brief history of my family and Yoshiko shared about hers. Yoshiko's family lived and worked on a farm in Shikoku, and her father was an antique collector. She had two sisters, the older was married and had two children. She had tried to get her sisters interested in the church but neither made any real commitment. Yoshiko apologized for not having the kind of bantering humor as some of Japanese sisters from her folk ballet troupe, who were already matched and had years of experience with Americans. The translator laughed when I replied, "Do you think all Americans are comedians?"
Yoko explained that Yoshiko was shy because she grew up with two sisters, went to an all girl school, never had a boyfriend, and spent a long time on an all girl Folk Ballet team. She only worked with the occasional brother as a team leader, so she in effect had no experience in dealing with men. She did say however, that she had a premonition that she would be marrying a foreigner, and that she was very stubborn. The attitude of the Japanese sisters who came for this Blessing was to accept any match and be prepared to 'Bury your bones in America.'
The next morning I knocked on Yoshiko's room to tell her I'd be out fund raising for the day; it was interesting to see her without her make-up on. Howard Self arranged for the South East CARP contingent, a busload to go out fundraising. Our region had been struggling financially, and tried to work on campus as much as possible. We went by subway to our areas and used oriental calendar scrolls for product. Richard L, a photographer who was having second thoughts about the Blessing, spent the day fund raising with me in Flushing. I didn't know it at the time, but soon after the Blessing I would read about him leaving the church. A newspaper article later featured a story about him breaking his blessing and referred to his wife as the "daughter of a Japanese pear farmer." They probably thought pear farmers were impoverished. Our total for the day was six dollars.
I called my brother Terry from a phone booth in Queens to see if he would be attending the ceremony with my mother. He was still skeptical and said he didn't have the money to come. "A Japanese woman will just go along with the matching no matter what," he said, "for that is their nature. She may not have any love for you." I thought it ironic for him to be giving advice on my marriage when he was going through a divorce himself. Terry asked if I would be able to leave the church if I wanted. I told him that before joining the church I was living a meaningless existence, and that after joining the church I had found fulfillment and value, and was free to return to a meaningless life any time I chose to. I called my mother who said she would have a party for us when we came to Canada, and that she would give Yoshiko her diamond and emerald engagement ring, that she had promised me.
The following day, I was selling roses in Times Square around the long lines of people going to the movie E.T. A couple of street urchins, little girls with long hair and big brown eyes were doing a brisk business with their flowers. By telling people that I was trying to raise money for a big wedding my results improved. Some one said that they didn't want to give money because Rev. Moon gets all the money. "Ya," I said sarcastically, "He drives around in a big stretch limo and whenever he pulls up and rolls down the window I hand Him the money." After midnight, when I returned to my room on the 17th floor, there was a box of cold French fries that Yoshiko had left me.
It was drizzling outside the third day when CARP gathered in the lobby before fund raising. Yoshiko said, "Take care, keep yourself warm in the rain."
I had a good prayer of gratitude and wanted to tell someone how I felt, and was almost moved to tears. Howard Self saw me and said, "Sometimes Heavenly Father gives us so much love; all we can do is cry." Then he said we didn't have to go out fund raising because it was raining.
Back in the room with all the brothers I put together a little booklet of my 40 songs, entitled Imaginary Mountains, to give to Yoshiko. Some of the brothers were arranging foil prints; putting them into mats. Though we were crammed into a sleeping bag room so there wasn't much room, we were all in good spirits. Jerry lamented humorously that since his size was so small he could only find a blue suit in the children's section, and the one suit they did have had gold trim, which made him look like a ship's captain. I went out and hawked a ring and made a little spending money, twenty-three dollars. Then I took the booklet, some roses and some fruit to Yoshiko's room.
We spent a lot of time lining up for practical things, such as getting a silver heart sticker for our church identification tag, getting a blood test, and having our picture taken. I suggested to Yoshiko that we had our wedding portrait done to get it out of the way, to avoid the big lines. Although Yoshiko-San may have thought it a bad omen to be seen in her wedding dress before her wedding day she went along with it. She was helping take care of 50 sisters, so it wasn't that easy to see her so often. But she agreed to do it, and we went through the back halls to the Manhattan Center, stood before the powder blue background and had our picture taken.
The morning of the blessing the whole New Yorker was filled with excitement. On the way down, from the brother’s room on the 17th floor, the stairwells swelled with brides and grooms making their way to the lobby. Like an endless stream of penguins waddling their way to the lobby a line of navy and lace were about to take the plunge. Yoshiko was at our usual rendezvous place, in front of the biblical oil paintings on the second floor balcony. She borrowed a pair of scissors to remove a piece of white thread from the back of my suit. We picked up her bouquet and went out into the early morning, through the light blue police barricades to Madison Square Garden.
We sat for a long time in the Felt Forum before filing along as we had practiced the day before. At one point, I thought Yoshiko was moved to tears, but actually she showed me a little eye drop bottle for her contact lenses, and disappeared for what seemed an eternity to use the rest room. At last it was our chance to enter the arena.
Directly behind us a Japanese and American couple were chatting constantly. I asked Yoshiko why she was so quiet. "It is Japanese custom for wife not to talk during wedding."
"This is America, you can talk," I said, adding that it's a "heavenly wedding." She opened up a bit after that.
Everyone started humming a Holy Song, Song of the Banquet, as we started to move. We linked arms, and were the couple on the right as we went past Father and Mother, four abreast. Father and Mother were wearing white holy wedding robes, with the white crowns. As I went passed them some of the holy water perfumed with Channel Number 5 sprinkled my back. As the procession moved majestically to the open space I could see the crowds in the stands.
We ended up at the very back, on the risers, far
from Father and Mother, where we made our vows and exchanged the rings. At one
point Father told us to stand up and promise each other, "I will not be a
burden to you." Following the ceremony we had a mass reception where
Father and Mother dined with us to one side of the stage. It was a box lunch;
and for many a rare chance to dine with True Parents.
On our last day together, July 4th, we went to the Statue of Liberty. Yoshiko wore her navy dress with the pink straw hat. We took the subway early, beating the crowds to be on the first ferry to the statue. I thought again how Yoshiko had determined to bury her bones in America. While she bought some souvenirs I paid a quarter to get a penny crushed into the shape of the statue. That afternoon we went to see Rocky 3, and stopped by Central Park. In the evening we ate at Burger King and slept through the movie Annie. That was the first time I slept with my wife. It would have been a nice honeymoon picture to have a photograph of the two of us looking out the crown of the Statue of Liberty.
The next morning, before heading back to Atlanta in the blue school bus, I went to the lobby to say good-bye. Yoshiko told me the Japanese sisters were getting ready to see Father in Belvedere. "I'm looking forward to receiving my letter," she said, "Take care of your faith and your health." And then with a smile and a wave, she disappeared in the elevator.
We set off towards the Empire State Building and had lunch at Japanese restaurant near 5th and 34th. It was endearing to hear her say, "Stefan-San, you know to use chopsticks." The afternoon concluded with a few pictures in front of the Gardens, when we returned to the New Yorker to wait for the evening's entertainment.
We had only met a week earlier, in the Grand Ballroom of the New Yorker. While Rev. Moon was giving a speech to prepare us for the matching, Yoshiko was still up in the air. In fact her plane was making the final approach. The 250 Japanese sisters who arrived on that flight filed straight into the lobby of the New Yorker, straight into the grand ballroom to be matched. I had been perfectly calm up until Father said that he'd be matching people with lighting speed, like positive and negative coming together with a big bang. "What if father didn't match me to a Japanese sister." I thought. When the matching was about to begin it appeared as if none of the Japanese sisters had arrived.
While witnessing in the Boston Commons in the summer of 1980 I had encountered a typical Japanese with a dress and fine straw hat headed to meet a friend. In her hand was a white box of pastry tied up with a string, ready to present to the person she would visit. I was taken by her charming personality. Also, I had seen Amerasian kids and wanted to have children like that of my own, so I was sure I wanted a Japanese wife.
I was sitting with Debbie, my spiritual mother, just before the matching when the first wave of Japanese sisters filed through the lobby. I had already talked to Debbie about my trepidation concerning the matching, when she ran into me the prior evening at the long line of brothers waiting to pick up their wedding rings. She was always looking out for me. A month earlier at a CARP workshop in Aspen Colorado we'd been asked our preferences, and a good number, brothers and sisters alike, had stated that they wanted Japanese spouses. Most had indicated that they would accept anyone, from any race. The Japanese sisters walked in; Debbie sensed my enthusiasm was out of line and suggested we return to the Grand Ballroom.
Many of the Japanese sisters cried when Father entered the Ballroom, probably because it was their first time to be seeing him. Immediately Father divided the room into brothers and sisters, forming an aisle down the middle. I felt calm inside, sitting there, in the front row, on the edge of the aisle. It started with Father picking one brother and sister from countries most represented by our church. Korea, Japan, America Canada and Britain were among the first.
After matching all of these representatives but two, Father asked, "Who would like a Japanese wife?" My hand shot up, and I was chosen. Father took a second look and directed me to the Japanese sister in the navy blue dress with yellow polka dots. We went up to the balcony overlooking the grand ballroom as the matching continued and spoke through Mr. A the Japanese translator. Yoshiko asked what nationality I was, and I said Canadian. I asked if she could have children. She nodded. We both agreed to accept the match and went down and bowed to Father and Mother, and signed the register, the 12th couple to be matched.
We exited the grand ballroom to an impromptu paparazzi of camera flashes. Howard Self, my leader at the time, smiled as I passed by and said, "She's a doll." We went to a prayer room on the fourth floor, prayed, then to a nearby camera store to buy film. I was a budding photographer at that time, and in my excitement didn't load the film properly. None of the pictures came out.
As we sat in a booth at the Sona Bona restaurant Yoshiko showed me a black and white snapshot of her in a high school uniform, taken when she had just joined the church. Her spiritual father, Mr. Aoki, was there with us. I was quite moved looking at pictures of her parents, her two sisters, and photos of her stint in the Korean Folk Ballet. Yoshiko was doing fine in English, until at one point she broke out in her native tongue. Just then Debbie and her fiancée, Russel joined us. They were happy they were both on MFT (Mobile Fundraising Teams.) The restaurant hummed with pleasant pandemonium as more and more newly matched couples came by introducing themselves. Pictures were being taken everywhere.
Yoshiko and I found a quiet room, where I serenaded her with a few songs, starting with A Miracle America, and Imaginary Mountains. After Walking on Air she said "I've never been to a circus, but I have seen them on television." When I played the Japanese song, What Do You Think Happiness Is Yoshiko sang along.
When Yoshiko asked me for my favorite song, I said, "I haven't written that one yet, but when I do it will be about you."
A couple days after the matching we had the Holy Wine Ceremony in the Grand Ballroom. Father addressed the Blessed couples, all crammed in perfect rows to drink Holy Wine from thimble sized cups on silver platters. It was touching the way Yoshiko struggled to say my name three times. When we placed our hands together, I tried to have the holiest attitude. The handkerchiefs which had wine sprinkled on them were to be put in a safe place until it was time to start families, in some three and a half years. After the ceremony brothers and sisters waved their holy handkerchiefs to dry around the upper balcony of the lobby.
The next morning Yoshiko helped with the sewing of the Japanese sisters' wedding dresses; I went with Debbie to buy a blue navy suit. I ended up buying a three-piece polyester suit for about $50.00. That was about all that I could afford since I was working as a volunteer without pay.
Over afternoon tea at the Statler Hilton Yoshiko, a translator named Yoko and I shared about our families. We exchanged our parent's address — but Yoshiko warned me not to write yet, because she wanted to break the news of our marriage in person. I gave her a brief history of my family and Yoshiko shared about hers. Yoshiko's family lived and worked on a farm in Shikoku, and her father was an antique collector. She had two sisters, the older was married and had two children. She had tried to get her sisters interested in the church but neither made any real commitment. Yoshiko apologized for not having the kind of bantering humor as some of Japanese sisters from her folk ballet troupe, who were already matched and had years of experience with Americans. The translator laughed when I replied, "Do you think all Americans are comedians?"
Yoko explained that Yoshiko was shy because she grew up with two sisters, went to an all girl school, never had a boyfriend, and spent a long time on an all girl Folk Ballet team. She only worked with the occasional brother as a team leader, so she in effect had no experience in dealing with men. She did say however, that she had a premonition that she would be marrying a foreigner, and that she was very stubborn. The attitude of the Japanese sisters who came for this Blessing was to accept any match and be prepared to 'Bury your bones in America.'
The next morning I knocked on Yoshiko's room to tell her I'd be out fund raising for the day; it was interesting to see her without her make-up on. Howard Self arranged for the South East CARP contingent, a busload to go out fundraising. Our region had been struggling financially, and tried to work on campus as much as possible. We went by subway to our areas and used oriental calendar scrolls for product. Richard L, a photographer who was having second thoughts about the Blessing, spent the day fund raising with me in Flushing. I didn't know it at the time, but soon after the Blessing I would read about him leaving the church. A newspaper article later featured a story about him breaking his blessing and referred to his wife as the "daughter of a Japanese pear farmer." They probably thought pear farmers were impoverished. Our total for the day was six dollars.
I called my brother Terry from a phone booth in Queens to see if he would be attending the ceremony with my mother. He was still skeptical and said he didn't have the money to come. "A Japanese woman will just go along with the matching no matter what," he said, "for that is their nature. She may not have any love for you." I thought it ironic for him to be giving advice on my marriage when he was going through a divorce himself. Terry asked if I would be able to leave the church if I wanted. I told him that before joining the church I was living a meaningless existence, and that after joining the church I had found fulfillment and value, and was free to return to a meaningless life any time I chose to. I called my mother who said she would have a party for us when we came to Canada, and that she would give Yoshiko her diamond and emerald engagement ring, that she had promised me.
The following day, I was selling roses in Times Square around the long lines of people going to the movie E.T. A couple of street urchins, little girls with long hair and big brown eyes were doing a brisk business with their flowers. By telling people that I was trying to raise money for a big wedding my results improved. Some one said that they didn't want to give money because Rev. Moon gets all the money. "Ya," I said sarcastically, "He drives around in a big stretch limo and whenever he pulls up and rolls down the window I hand Him the money." After midnight, when I returned to my room on the 17th floor, there was a box of cold French fries that Yoshiko had left me.
It was drizzling outside the third day when CARP gathered in the lobby before fund raising. Yoshiko said, "Take care, keep yourself warm in the rain."
I had a good prayer of gratitude and wanted to tell someone how I felt, and was almost moved to tears. Howard Self saw me and said, "Sometimes Heavenly Father gives us so much love; all we can do is cry." Then he said we didn't have to go out fund raising because it was raining.
Back in the room with all the brothers I put together a little booklet of my 40 songs, entitled Imaginary Mountains, to give to Yoshiko. Some of the brothers were arranging foil prints; putting them into mats. Though we were crammed into a sleeping bag room so there wasn't much room, we were all in good spirits. Jerry lamented humorously that since his size was so small he could only find a blue suit in the children's section, and the one suit they did have had gold trim, which made him look like a ship's captain. I went out and hawked a ring and made a little spending money, twenty-three dollars. Then I took the booklet, some roses and some fruit to Yoshiko's room.
We spent a lot of time lining up for practical things, such as getting a silver heart sticker for our church identification tag, getting a blood test, and having our picture taken. I suggested to Yoshiko that we had our wedding portrait done to get it out of the way, to avoid the big lines. Although Yoshiko-San may have thought it a bad omen to be seen in her wedding dress before her wedding day she went along with it. She was helping take care of 50 sisters, so it wasn't that easy to see her so often. But she agreed to do it, and we went through the back halls to the Manhattan Center, stood before the powder blue background and had our picture taken.
The morning of the blessing the whole New Yorker was filled with excitement. On the way down, from the brother’s room on the 17th floor, the stairwells swelled with brides and grooms making their way to the lobby. Like an endless stream of penguins waddling their way to the lobby a line of navy and lace were about to take the plunge. Yoshiko was at our usual rendezvous place, in front of the biblical oil paintings on the second floor balcony. She borrowed a pair of scissors to remove a piece of white thread from the back of my suit. We picked up her bouquet and went out into the early morning, through the light blue police barricades to Madison Square Garden.
We sat for a long time in the Felt Forum before filing along as we had practiced the day before. At one point, I thought Yoshiko was moved to tears, but actually she showed me a little eye drop bottle for her contact lenses, and disappeared for what seemed an eternity to use the rest room. At last it was our chance to enter the arena.
Directly behind us a Japanese and American couple were chatting constantly. I asked Yoshiko why she was so quiet. "It is Japanese custom for wife not to talk during wedding."
"This is America, you can talk," I said, adding that it's a "heavenly wedding." She opened up a bit after that.
Everyone started humming a Holy Song, Song of the Banquet, as we started to move. We linked arms, and were the couple on the right as we went past Father and Mother, four abreast. Father and Mother were wearing white holy wedding robes, with the white crowns. As I went passed them some of the holy water perfumed with Channel Number 5 sprinkled my back. As the procession moved majestically to the open space I could see the crowds in the stands.
On our last day together, July 4th, we went to the Statue of Liberty. Yoshiko wore her navy dress with the pink straw hat. We took the subway early, beating the crowds to be on the first ferry to the statue. I thought again how Yoshiko had determined to bury her bones in America. While she bought some souvenirs I paid a quarter to get a penny crushed into the shape of the statue. That afternoon we went to see Rocky 3, and stopped by Central Park. In the evening we ate at Burger King and slept through the movie Annie. That was the first time I slept with my wife. It would have been a nice honeymoon picture to have a photograph of the two of us looking out the crown of the Statue of Liberty.
The next morning, before heading back to Atlanta in the blue school bus, I went to the lobby to say good-bye. Yoshiko told me the Japanese sisters were getting ready to see Father in Belvedere. "I'm looking forward to receiving my letter," she said, "Take care of your faith and your health." And then with a smile and a wave, she disappeared in the elevator.
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