Paul Kusuda’s column
Gone -- A close friend
Gone -- A close friend
By Paul H. Kusuda
In December, many find pleasure giving and receiving gifts. Friendships are not only worth
much more than material gifts, they are lasting and do not disappear from memory. As a
person grows older, it appears that opportunities to establish close and lasting friendships
diminish. We meet and exchange niceties, talk about trivialities, and then end discussion.
Such contacts seldom result in even establishing an acquaintance. Close blafriends are not
easy to find, not even when we’re young. When found, they’re treasured for a long time. And
we remember them.
For the September 2008 issue of ASIAN WISCONZINE, I wrote an article headed
“Acquaintances, Friends, and Close Friends.” I named three close friends: Eurial Jordan, Carl
Sam, and Akira Toki (alphabetically by last named). Only a year later, Carl died of lung cancer
and complications including pneumonia. Now, more than a year has gone by since that event,
and I can write a bit about early experiences he and I had.
In December, many find pleasure giving and receiving gifts. Friendships are not only worth
much more than material gifts, they are lasting and do not disappear from memory. As a
person grows older, it appears that opportunities to establish close and lasting friendships
diminish. We meet and exchange niceties, talk about trivialities, and then end discussion.
Such contacts seldom result in even establishing an acquaintance. Close blafriends are not
easy to find, not even when we’re young. When found, they’re treasured for a long time. And
we remember them.
For the September 2008 issue of ASIAN WISCONZINE, I wrote an article headed
“Acquaintances, Friends, and Close Friends.” I named three close friends: Eurial Jordan, Carl
Sam, and Akira Toki (alphabetically by last named). Only a year later, Carl died of lung cancer
and complications including pneumonia. Now, more than a year has gone by since that event,
and I can write a bit about early experiences he and I had.
Carl had a hard time going through cancer treatment, both radiation- and chemotherapy. He hated it but endured it,
mostly for the sake of his family. I visited him periodically, and we talked about going to Las Vegas to visit craps tables to
try our luck.
In addition to being coworkers in the Wisconsin Department of Public Welfare, later the State Department of Health
and Human Services, we were also small-time gamblers—poker, sheepshead, craps, and blackjack. We had fun. In
fact, the building in which we worked had four elevators, and we’d bet on which elevator would stop for us after we
pressed the “down” button. The winner got a nickel from the other. If neither won, no one won. We always had a nickel,
so neither of us owed the other.
Las Vegas was enticing gamblers in the 1970s to visit by having many airline/hotel offers that were often at bargain
rates. Occasionally, Carl and I took short vacations based on offers such as three nights plus round-trip airfares for about
$99. When we lost, the amount was never too much more than $100, including food local transportation, and tips. We
were far from the category of big spenders. No one got rich on us. But, we had lots of fun trying to beat the odds.
One time, we went to Reno on such a junket and at about the same cost, and went from casino to casino moving from
one craps table to another. We also played blackjack but never went to roulette tables. When we were in Reno or Las
Vegas, we played the minimum which at that time was a dollar, later two dollars. In Las Vegas, we found that in the
morning hours, some downtown casinos had 25-cent minimum craps tables. That suited us fine and was to our liking.
In Reno, we played dollar-minimum craps and blackjack, ate reasonably-priced breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, and
enjoyed just wasting our time.
Carl didn’t sleep as much as I did. He usually got up during the early hours to go to a blackjack table even though he
might be the only player up at the time. Casinos keep open 24/7, so gamblers could while away their time whenever they
chose. Carl came and went quietly to avoid awakening me, so I didn’t know how often during a night he got up to walk
around. One night, after he returned to the room, he put his wallet into the inside pocket of his sports coat before going
back to bed. He didn’t leave the hotel, so he didn’t need to wear a jacket.
In the morning after he and I shaved, etc., before going out to have breakfast, he put on his jacket and reached for his
wallet. It was missing. Well, we had a frantic few minutes looking. Important stuff was in his jacket but not his wallet.
Panic! I put on my jacket, and we were going to report the incident. I reached into the inside pocket of my jacket, and
Eureka! There was Carl’s wallet. In the darkness, Carl mistook my jacket for his. What a relief!
In Las Vegas, we usually stayed in a downtown hotel because casino-hopping was easier. Hotels are closer together,
not far apart as on the Strip. Less walking. Anyway, Carl and I had lots of good times together. Lots of good memories;
much, much better than some work memories for Carl and me.
Three months ago, September 2010, Margie (Carl’s widow) and I had a telephone conversation the night after she
returned from Las Vegas. Her children and their spouses arranged a vacation trip for her. They had a good get-together.
It was like the event Carl had arranged for his sister’s 80th birthday. Atsuko and I were invited to be part of the family
group. We all had a good time.
mostly for the sake of his family. I visited him periodically, and we talked about going to Las Vegas to visit craps tables to
try our luck.
In addition to being coworkers in the Wisconsin Department of Public Welfare, later the State Department of Health
and Human Services, we were also small-time gamblers—poker, sheepshead, craps, and blackjack. We had fun. In
fact, the building in which we worked had four elevators, and we’d bet on which elevator would stop for us after we
pressed the “down” button. The winner got a nickel from the other. If neither won, no one won. We always had a nickel,
so neither of us owed the other.
Las Vegas was enticing gamblers in the 1970s to visit by having many airline/hotel offers that were often at bargain
rates. Occasionally, Carl and I took short vacations based on offers such as three nights plus round-trip airfares for about
$99. When we lost, the amount was never too much more than $100, including food local transportation, and tips. We
were far from the category of big spenders. No one got rich on us. But, we had lots of fun trying to beat the odds.
One time, we went to Reno on such a junket and at about the same cost, and went from casino to casino moving from
one craps table to another. We also played blackjack but never went to roulette tables. When we were in Reno or Las
Vegas, we played the minimum which at that time was a dollar, later two dollars. In Las Vegas, we found that in the
morning hours, some downtown casinos had 25-cent minimum craps tables. That suited us fine and was to our liking.
In Reno, we played dollar-minimum craps and blackjack, ate reasonably-priced breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, and
enjoyed just wasting our time.
Carl didn’t sleep as much as I did. He usually got up during the early hours to go to a blackjack table even though he
might be the only player up at the time. Casinos keep open 24/7, so gamblers could while away their time whenever they
chose. Carl came and went quietly to avoid awakening me, so I didn’t know how often during a night he got up to walk
around. One night, after he returned to the room, he put his wallet into the inside pocket of his sports coat before going
back to bed. He didn’t leave the hotel, so he didn’t need to wear a jacket.
In the morning after he and I shaved, etc., before going out to have breakfast, he put on his jacket and reached for his
wallet. It was missing. Well, we had a frantic few minutes looking. Important stuff was in his jacket but not his wallet.
Panic! I put on my jacket, and we were going to report the incident. I reached into the inside pocket of my jacket, and
Eureka! There was Carl’s wallet. In the darkness, Carl mistook my jacket for his. What a relief!
In Las Vegas, we usually stayed in a downtown hotel because casino-hopping was easier. Hotels are closer together,
not far apart as on the Strip. Less walking. Anyway, Carl and I had lots of good times together. Lots of good memories;
much, much better than some work memories for Carl and me.
Three months ago, September 2010, Margie (Carl’s widow) and I had a telephone conversation the night after she
returned from Las Vegas. Her children and their spouses arranged a vacation trip for her. They had a good get-together.
It was like the event Carl had arranged for his sister’s 80th birthday. Atsuko and I were invited to be part of the family
group. We all had a good time.
This time, however, Margie told me that downtown
Las Vegas had changed too much that it wasn’t as
much fun as before. After talking with her, I decided to
be like her and no longer consider going there to
meander from casino to casino.
So, no more Las Vegas for me. Without a close
friend like Carl as a companion, it wouldn’t be much
fun. On a day-to-day basis, our work relationships
were collegial, and we could depend on each other
for support and complete trust. I’ll continue small-
time gambling; no more Las Vegas. It’s tough to lose
a close friend.
Las Vegas had changed too much that it wasn’t as
much fun as before. After talking with her, I decided to
be like her and no longer consider going there to
meander from casino to casino.
So, no more Las Vegas for me. Without a close
friend like Carl as a companion, it wouldn’t be much
fun. On a day-to-day basis, our work relationships
were collegial, and we could depend on each other
for support and complete trust. I’ll continue small-
time gambling; no more Las Vegas. It’s tough to lose
a close friend.