Paul Kusuda’s column
Grandmother raising grandchildren
Grandmother raising grandchildren
By Paul Kusuda
A couple of months ago, I wrote about my grandmother, who worked hard to teach her grandchildren the
important social function called “Chanto.” A number of definitions were provided because the word has so many
contextual meanings. I guess that’s true with words in other languages that are not easily translatable into English or
American English. Anyway, my point this month, is to review the larger role my grandmother played in our household.
My grandmother’s name was Kaya, but we never used her name. She was always called and referred to as Obaa-san. I
purposely misspelled the word “Obasan” to point out how pronunciation distinguishes meaning. Obasan with the
accent on the first “a” means grandmother, while Obasan accented on the “o” means aunt. So, when Obasan is
pronounced as Obaasan, it means grandmother, while if it’s pronounced as Ohba-san, it means aunt. Of some interest
is the fact that “Ojisan” means grandfather or uncle, depending on pronunciation – Ojii-san means grandfather, while
Ohji-san means uncle. (The truth is, I am not truly facile in Japanese. I know very little —”sukoshi”— or sukoh-shi, but I
often make it seem like a lot more.
My grandmother emigrated from Japan as an adult, poorly versed in the English language though well-versed in
Japanese and, of course, in things Japanese. She passed traditions and cultural values to us children – when we paid
attention. We didn’t do so always. In fact, sometimes, we thought she was odd. Maybe she was too old – about 60 or so.
Obasan was very capable, wise, and she held to tradition. After she came to the U.S. with her 12- or 13-year old step-
daughter (my mother), she opened a grocery store in downtown Los Angeles in the heart of what was called Li’l Tokyo,
where her limited use of English was no obstacle to being an astute businesswoman. She ran her grocery store and
was well-regarded by everyone, I was told by my parents. After my father sold his small hotel in a seedy part of L.A., he
bought a small grocery store in uptown L.A. and rented a three-bedroom house about half a block away from the store.
Obasan sold her store and was invited to move in with my parents.
Obasan’s experience running a grocery store included dealing with wholesalers and others. However, she didn’t
force that expertise on my father. She let him learn the intricacies for himself. That was a little short of amazing
because as a kid, I had occasionally visited her store and saw how she dealt with others. She must have known her
stuff; she was successful, and she didn’t need help to sell her store when she decided.
Obasan’s relationship with my mother was the usual mother-daughter type. However, it was quite different with
respect to my father. Whatever my father did was accepted without question or argument. In retrospect, I guess she
must have had to grit her teeth often about how my father ran the store. To her, I think, the saving grace was that he
was conscientious, honest, and hard-working. And he was. His grocery store was open seven days a week, from 8 a.m.
to 8 p.m. everyday except Sunday, when he opened about 9 a.m. and closed about 6 p.m.
Obasan accepted her role as caretaker of her step-daughter’s three children and showed no outward effect of the
drastic change between being a proprietor of a grocery store to becoming a caretaker. We children just assumed that’s
the way life was. Our mother was helping our father; Obasan was living with us. So, we had to mind what she told us.
That is, my younger sister and I did. My brother, four years older than I, had trouble listening to her and my mother. He
listened to my father, however, because if he aggravated him too much, he got a spanking or a hit in the head. (We
didn’t know about child abuse those days).
Tradition must have dictated Obasan’s role; she probably didn’t even think about it. She just took responsibilities
as being a natural sequence of events. Life goes on; one accepts what’s involved. So she made sure we got up in time
for school. She fixed lunches for us, and I learned how to fix my brown paper bag to have a hand-hold fold. She
couldn’t help us with our homework, but she saw to it that we did what we were supposed to do. In fact, once in a
while, we even had to read to her. She washed and mended our clothes. She scolded us when she felt we needed
discipline but never spanked any of us even when we truly deserved it. She did a lot of things for us. She was great as
our grandmother.
In the early 1930’s, when we were in what-is-now-known-as the Great Depression, I remember quite vividly a time
my younger sister and I were home on a non-school day. It was lunchtime, and we were hungry. All Obasan could find
were scallions (we called them green onions), yellow onions, and some red onions. She took out the large frying pan,
some butter, and fried all the chopped onions. She gave us bread, untoasted, and told us to butter it if we wanted.
That was the most delicious lunch! I remember because recently, I had a hamburger and fried onions. The taste was
enough to bring back memories of the “good old days” when we had few worries because my grandmother was always
there.
Grandmothers raising grandchildren nowadays are as important as in the “good old days.” In the “good old days,”
for many cultures, grandparents were to live with their own grown children after retirement. Few had pensions and
retirement funds. Also, in many cases, families existed on the income of the father and grown-up sons if they lived at
home. American culture has changed. Now, many families require income from both parents. Single-parent families
need caretakers for children while parents work.
Grandparents have become necessary to assure supervision of children during non-school hours. They’re unpaid,
truly needed caretakers. Few families can afford nannies or day-care center services. Costs are obviously involved
when grandparents take on the role of the caretaker. For families on tight budgets, extra costs pose financial problems
that are hard to solve. Added costs must be absorbed into family budgets, but when expenses exceed income, crisis
occurs. For some, use of food stamps, supplementary funds, or other resources may meet needs temporarily, but a
viable long-term solution is needed. Some say, public funds should not even be considered. I say, THEY MUST!
A couple of months ago, I wrote about my grandmother, who worked hard to teach her grandchildren the
important social function called “Chanto.” A number of definitions were provided because the word has so many
contextual meanings. I guess that’s true with words in other languages that are not easily translatable into English or
American English. Anyway, my point this month, is to review the larger role my grandmother played in our household.
My grandmother’s name was Kaya, but we never used her name. She was always called and referred to as Obaa-san. I
purposely misspelled the word “Obasan” to point out how pronunciation distinguishes meaning. Obasan with the
accent on the first “a” means grandmother, while Obasan accented on the “o” means aunt. So, when Obasan is
pronounced as Obaasan, it means grandmother, while if it’s pronounced as Ohba-san, it means aunt. Of some interest
is the fact that “Ojisan” means grandfather or uncle, depending on pronunciation – Ojii-san means grandfather, while
Ohji-san means uncle. (The truth is, I am not truly facile in Japanese. I know very little —”sukoshi”— or sukoh-shi, but I
often make it seem like a lot more.
My grandmother emigrated from Japan as an adult, poorly versed in the English language though well-versed in
Japanese and, of course, in things Japanese. She passed traditions and cultural values to us children – when we paid
attention. We didn’t do so always. In fact, sometimes, we thought she was odd. Maybe she was too old – about 60 or so.
Obasan was very capable, wise, and she held to tradition. After she came to the U.S. with her 12- or 13-year old step-
daughter (my mother), she opened a grocery store in downtown Los Angeles in the heart of what was called Li’l Tokyo,
where her limited use of English was no obstacle to being an astute businesswoman. She ran her grocery store and
was well-regarded by everyone, I was told by my parents. After my father sold his small hotel in a seedy part of L.A., he
bought a small grocery store in uptown L.A. and rented a three-bedroom house about half a block away from the store.
Obasan sold her store and was invited to move in with my parents.
Obasan’s experience running a grocery store included dealing with wholesalers and others. However, she didn’t
force that expertise on my father. She let him learn the intricacies for himself. That was a little short of amazing
because as a kid, I had occasionally visited her store and saw how she dealt with others. She must have known her
stuff; she was successful, and she didn’t need help to sell her store when she decided.
Obasan’s relationship with my mother was the usual mother-daughter type. However, it was quite different with
respect to my father. Whatever my father did was accepted without question or argument. In retrospect, I guess she
must have had to grit her teeth often about how my father ran the store. To her, I think, the saving grace was that he
was conscientious, honest, and hard-working. And he was. His grocery store was open seven days a week, from 8 a.m.
to 8 p.m. everyday except Sunday, when he opened about 9 a.m. and closed about 6 p.m.
Obasan accepted her role as caretaker of her step-daughter’s three children and showed no outward effect of the
drastic change between being a proprietor of a grocery store to becoming a caretaker. We children just assumed that’s
the way life was. Our mother was helping our father; Obasan was living with us. So, we had to mind what she told us.
That is, my younger sister and I did. My brother, four years older than I, had trouble listening to her and my mother. He
listened to my father, however, because if he aggravated him too much, he got a spanking or a hit in the head. (We
didn’t know about child abuse those days).
Tradition must have dictated Obasan’s role; she probably didn’t even think about it. She just took responsibilities
as being a natural sequence of events. Life goes on; one accepts what’s involved. So she made sure we got up in time
for school. She fixed lunches for us, and I learned how to fix my brown paper bag to have a hand-hold fold. She
couldn’t help us with our homework, but she saw to it that we did what we were supposed to do. In fact, once in a
while, we even had to read to her. She washed and mended our clothes. She scolded us when she felt we needed
discipline but never spanked any of us even when we truly deserved it. She did a lot of things for us. She was great as
our grandmother.
In the early 1930’s, when we were in what-is-now-known-as the Great Depression, I remember quite vividly a time
my younger sister and I were home on a non-school day. It was lunchtime, and we were hungry. All Obasan could find
were scallions (we called them green onions), yellow onions, and some red onions. She took out the large frying pan,
some butter, and fried all the chopped onions. She gave us bread, untoasted, and told us to butter it if we wanted.
That was the most delicious lunch! I remember because recently, I had a hamburger and fried onions. The taste was
enough to bring back memories of the “good old days” when we had few worries because my grandmother was always
there.
Grandmothers raising grandchildren nowadays are as important as in the “good old days.” In the “good old days,”
for many cultures, grandparents were to live with their own grown children after retirement. Few had pensions and
retirement funds. Also, in many cases, families existed on the income of the father and grown-up sons if they lived at
home. American culture has changed. Now, many families require income from both parents. Single-parent families
need caretakers for children while parents work.
Grandparents have become necessary to assure supervision of children during non-school hours. They’re unpaid,
truly needed caretakers. Few families can afford nannies or day-care center services. Costs are obviously involved
when grandparents take on the role of the caretaker. For families on tight budgets, extra costs pose financial problems
that are hard to solve. Added costs must be absorbed into family budgets, but when expenses exceed income, crisis
occurs. For some, use of food stamps, supplementary funds, or other resources may meet needs temporarily, but a
viable long-term solution is needed. Some say, public funds should not even be considered. I say, THEY MUST!