It’s hard saying sayonara to good friends

I’m sad to say our friends, Kurt and Chizuru Hervin, have moved away. They now live in the lush farmland village of Hiroshimaken, Japan.

When Kurt and Chizuru arrived in Japan in January, there was three feet of snow on the ground, but now their weather is subtropical. I just received an iPhone picture of Chizuru walking their dog on a narrow country road. It’s so green, it looks like bonny Ireland. Fact is, they live in a deep valley, and the curvy road where the picture is taken is barely wide enough for one car. Before they left Smith Valley, Chizuru lamented they would not be taking their Mercedes SUV to Japan, because large cars just do not fit on their rural country roads. Chizuru’s cousin has a car dealership in Hiroshima and they plan to get a small car there instead. Kurt also plans to buy a Japanese truck, but says they are so small he just might not be able to close the door once inside.

Their move from Smith Valley had been in the planning stage for a long time. Kurt retired and Chizuru inherited a marvelous farmhouse that has been in her family for generations. The house has enormous wooden beams, fine carpentry throughout, rice paper screen doors, and tatami mats. Of course, Kurt will need a king-size bed and American bathtub – he is that tall.

What Kurt had done for a living had always mystified me. I understood that he devised specialized medical equipment. He used his imagination to design a piece of equipment and then his team built a prototype that was turned into a commercial item for sale. He drove back and forth to Reno for ten years. Chizuru joined Kurt in Smith Valley when they married. He kiddingly says he found her on eBay. Truth is, they met on the internet, but it took several trips to Hiroshima to woo and wed her. Chizuru was also very successful in her career, selling very expensive men’s suits to businessmen.

As a couple, Kurt and Chizuru were wonderful dinner companions, and we became dear friends. Chizuru had time to spare and also took my dance class. She became the best dancer I have ever trained. Part of her success was her penchant for beauty. She knew when a dance move was right and when it was wooden. I would show her a routine and she would try it and instinctively know something was missing. I would break the movement down, put it to the music and, after a few tries, she would “nail it.” In time she became an eye stopping dancer. Once Chizuru and I gave a performance together and one of my students told me confidentially, all eyes were on her, not me. Strangely, I was pleased by the comment.

Orllyene and I relish each bit of news we receive from Hiroshimaken. They tell us they are building a bamboo fence around their property, Chizuru’s potato plants are flourishing, and Kurt has an appointment to speak with a John Deere dealer about getting a tractor. Kurt also mentioned there were 60 families in the village at one time, but now there are only six, and they are the youngest. He also informed me that they have monkeys living in their mountains.

One of the treats we were permitted to share with Kurt and Chizuru when they lived here, was to take them to the Hunewill Guest Ranch picnic in Bridgeport on the Fourth of July. Now to celebrate the Fourth of July holiday, Kurt is barbecuing hamburgers for Chizuru’s family and friends. Kurt and Chizuru have started a new life and turning challenges into opportunities. It will be a pleasure to hear the saga of their life together as it continues to unfold. So, for now, sayonara, and, as Chizuru used to say after her English class here, “See you soon.”

Ron Walker can be reached at walkover@gmx.com