Toru Kawamura

When I was a boy, in first and second grade, I had a friend who was from Japan, and who lived in the same apartment building as we did, and who also went to my school. He was a year ahead of me in school.

The first time I ever saw him, I was walking to school, and four or five of the older boys were beating him up. He held his own, but it wasn't a fair fight.

I was tiny as a kid, usually the smallest kid in any group, but my sense of outrage at this unfairness overcame my self-preservation instinct and I tried to intervene. I have to say at this point that I wasn't able to help poor Toru at all. One of the larger kids simply gave me a cuff in the head, grabbed me in a strangle hold, and lifted me off my feet until I stopped struggling, and then put my feet back on the ground and told me to be still or he would choke me to death.

So I had to stand there and watch this kid take a beating for no good reason.

The kids were calling him racial names and telling him to 'go back to Japan'.

I didn't understand why they were saying these things... the incident made me feel sick in my soul.

Afterwards, I picked up Toru's umbrella and put his torn and muddy books back into his book bag and went over to him. I asked him if he was okay... he was crying, and bruised, and bleeding. He took his umbrella and book bag, asked me to leave him alone, and headed back home.

I stood there, watching him limping slowly back towards the building where we lived.. muddy, wet, and hurt... I remember looking at the ground and seeing a crocus that had been flattened during the struggle.. it struck something in me; I felt terrible, and I started to cry... my throat felt as though I had swallowed an iron ball... my eyes were burning.. my lips trembling... and my knees shaking with feelings of anger, frustration, powerlessness, and and overwhelming sense of loss... at what, I don't know to this day.

Eventually, I headed into school for one of the most miserable days I had ever experienced in my life up to that day... not because of anything that was happening externally, but because of all of the thoughts and feelings that were raging inside of me. I had no idea what I was feeling, and no idea how to sort them out...

After school, I went home and got some cookies, wrapped them in a paper towel, and after scanning the doorbells for the name 'Kawamura' (I had seen it on his books, and on his book bag) I went and knocked on his door. I suppose I wanted to try to make him feel better... to tell him that *I* didn't want him to go back to Japan.. unless *he* wanted to... and probably to make myself feel better about the whole thing in some way... I stood there for what seemed like forever, but nobody answered the door.

Some days later, I knocked on the door again and it was answered by an attractive Japanese woman who, with extreme politeness, explained that Toru was in 'Manhattan' with his father. I had no earthly idea where 'Manhattan' was, and when I later asked my grandparents, they explained that although we called Manhattan 'New York City' or simply 'The City' - that all five boroughs were actually 'The City' and that 'Manhattan' was actually the correct term. I was very impressed by this degree of accuracy and specificity. I felt that I should have known this. I started to think that the thugs who had beaten this kid up were really off base... these folks even knew the proper names for things when I didn't!!

I finally knocked on the door when Toru was actually home. He came to the door and stared at me impassively for a long moment, and then, deciding that I posed no threat to him, I suppose, grabbed his jacket and came out to play. He told me about Japan, showed me how people wrote in Japan (I was absolutely captivated by this!), explained to me that the boys who had beaten him up were most likely angry because they had heard the stories that their parents and uncles and grandparents had told about the war with Japan (In retrospect, I am absolutely floored at the self-possession and insight of this little 6 or 7 year old boy.. he was an amazing kid!).

When I asked about the war, he explained that it had much to do with Japan needing steel and other natural resources because they had very little land and very little ability to derive natural resources from their homeland.

I sat there, open-mouthed, while he patiently explained all of this to me. I asked him how he learned all of this stuff.. and he told me that on Saturdays, he went to 'Japanese School'. I was flabbergasted at this!! School on SATURDAY!! It simply wasn't done!! What about cartoons?! What about playing outside!!

He said that one day his parents would have to return to Japan (his father had been posted in New York by his Company), and that he, Toru, would have to return with them... and if he didn't work hard in Japanese School, he would be behind all of the other children when he went back to school.

This was the first kid I had ever known who considered school to be important, and not just a nuisance that had to be dealt with. It was Toru who sparked the first interest in learning within me.

I continued to be impressed by Toru during the entire period of our friendship. Whatever anybody could do, Toru could do it better!! I made houses and things out of Lego blocks... Toru had built a huge commercial airliner that was amazing! I made a kite out of newspaper and sticks... Toru made a hand painted Dragon kite that had to be 15 or 20 feet long!!

Perhaps the most amazing thing was that he never 'one-upped' me.. when I showed him my kite, he 'oooohed' and 'aaaahed' over it, expressed his delight with a ready smile, and helped me to fly it. It was only weeks later when I spied the kite hanging in his bedroom and asked about it that I learned that he had made it by hand. When I blurted out that I felt like an idiot for being so proud of my stupid kite, he wrinkled his brow, put a small brown hand on my arm and said that I had no reason at all to feel that way... that my kite was beautiful.. and that my kite flew better than his did, anyway... I bought it at the time, but now realize that most likely wasn't true. Toru was protecting my feelings.

Just before Toru returned to Japan, the same kids who had beaten him up blocked our way as we were walking to school together. This time, they focused on me, and announced their intention to beat the crap out of me for being a 'traitor' by befriending Toru.

As one of them moved towards me, Toru stepped in front of me and quietly explained that they were being very impolite. He told them that he couldn't let them hurt me. He explained that I was his friend. And that I was very small.

The bully was laughing as he grabbed Toru by the lapels to toss him out of the way.

He stopped laughing when Toru tossed him onto his back on the sidewalk.

The other boys all rushed Toru - and were systematically thrown to the ground, punched, or kicked.

When they had had enough and ran away, I looked at Toru incredulously and demanded to know why on earth, if he was capable of fighting like that, had he let them beat him up so badly the last time?!?!?

He looked at me with that maddeningly calm way of his and answered, simply;
"I didn't want to hurt them."

I had never known anybody like this kid in my life...


I don't remember how long my friendship with Toru lasted, but it couldn't have been very long at all. What I do remember is that he was one of the most influential people in my life. He set an example that I have yet to emulate. He was a smart, kind, and insightful person.. at the age of 7 or possibly 8. He was patient, tranquil, focused, and had absolutely no ego whatsoever.

I often wonder what became of Toru, and how he is faring...

In any case, Toru, wherever you are, I hope that you are well, and that you are truly happy, and that you have managed to follow your dreams.. whatever they may be.

Domo Arigato Gozaimasu (ありがとう！あなたはとてもしんせつです。((ごめんなさい。私の日本語はへたです。)) )