"The place I want to remember"
60年代最後の年に生まれ、東京の下町で幼少を過ごしました。7年ほど住んだ墨田区のアパートはその後2年生まで通うことになる小学校のすぐ裏にありました。8時30分に授業が始まるのに8時30分に家を出て走って校舎に入っていくダメな小学生でした。そんな私は今子供に遅刻するな〜！と毎日せかし煽りながら学校に送り出しているダメなオトナです。
ちなみにこのアパート、50年経った今でも健在のようで、Googleストリートビューにもしっかり出てきます。
そんな幼少を経て、日本の大学を中退してひとまず編入したアメリカの短大で他の授業を受けながらESL（English as a Second Language）の授業も受けて英語力を身につけていた頃（1989年）、Essay（小作文）の課題で書いたのが"The place I want to remember"でした。
冒頭の写真のようにこのアパートの真ん前の道路は3ｍほどの狭い道で、道の反対側の小学校の塀にもたれながらアイスクリームを頬張ってる昭和の子供が、何気ない毎日を楽しんでいたころの回想essayです。文章に出てくる花は後で知りましたがオシロイバナだったようです。
当時はレポートを出すにもワープロなどまだ使ってない時代で、電子タイプライターを使って課題提出していました。Brother製のこんな感じので修正テープ付きのやつで、途中で間違いに気づくとそこまで消して打ち直しみたいな苦労をしてました。そんな提出した作文を文末最後に先生に添削されたそのまんまで載せておきます。
Hidetsugu Tonomura ESL 111
Vickie Farmer
Sep. 27 1989
Right after I was born in Hyogo in Japan, my family moved to an apartment in Tokyo which was right behind an elementary school that I would go to later. My family's rooms were upstairs, and that apartment was on the north side of the school building; therefore, the sunshine got into the upstairs but not much into the street laid 250 feet in length between the school and the apartment. While the school building occupied all one side of the street, about ten houses were built closely on the other side. This is my memorable neighborhood.
At the west edge of the street, there was a tofu shop where my mother usually went to buy. I remember the owner. He was a sturdy man and used to grab his five year-old son's neck just to carry him. It was a strange way of him. Two doors away from the tofu shop was an ironworks which made a high-tone noise during the daytime. This was the only noise on the quiet street, and only the ironworks was dirty and dark inside. I sometimes watched its works: Cutting iron made little fireworks in the darkness.
At the east side of the street, there was a stationary store where I sometimes bought pencils, scales, etc. for my school. Right next to my apartment, there was a sewing workshop where several women worked, using sewing machines. I remember one day when I was a little child, I played baseball with my friends on the street. That day, I was using heavier bat than I usually used; and as I swung it, I lost my balance and hit the glass of the workshop. Later, I was scolded by my mother; I was silly to play baseball on that narrow one-way street.
Putting a little glove on one little hand and a ball in the other hand, I used to play baseball by myself almost everyday throwing the ball to the wall of the school. The wall was high enough to make shade under it even when the sun was at its highest. One of the pictures in my album reminds me about the wall, showing me sitting and eating ice cream under the shade of the wall whose lower part was covered with moss, thanks to being on the north side. One year, however, the wall was reconstructed. The new wall, unlike the old one that seemed as if it reached to the sky, pretty low and hard for me to play "sole-baseball"; yet, I found one good thing. There were flowers planted on the top of the new wall. At sunset, the sun shone from the west edge of the street making long shadows behind the buildings and me. That time, bunches of moths came from somewhere to gather to those pink flowers. My friends and I used to catch them. Japanese believe that they are dirty. So did my mother. For me, they were attractive. Every time I caught them, they left powder on my fingers; and the powder from their wings beautifully shined gold reflecting orange sunshine.
That quiet street is the place I played a lot when I was a child. I had a fun time there. After seven years of living in the apartment, my parents decided to buy a condominium. Although I did not want to move out to any other towns, I, a little child, was convinced to leave from the neighborhood; Sumida-ward. I did not like the new town, Itabashi-ward, very much. Even now, after over thirteen years, I am missing my old neighborhood, where I could have my own street.
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