Bad Day

On a mostly forgotten day in February, 1995, the telephone in my office rang. When I picked it up I heard Mr. Yoshimura's voice on the other end of the line. It was a happy surprise to hear his voice, because we hadn't spoken since my study visit with him in early January. I had faxed him a copy of the report I'd written about the study visit, but hadn't heard back from him, and he'd never sent the report he said he was going to write. I had been very busy since my return from Mr. Yoshimura's place, trying to hit the ground running in my quest to make good on some of the many ideas he'd filled me with. I had no idea what he'd been up to since my visit.

When conversing with Mr. Yoshimura I always had to listen closely. Even after more than thirty years living in the United States, he still spoke English with a thick Japanese accent. I had come to understand him pretty well, but I had to put effort into it and listen closely. Likewise, when I spoke to him I would slow my speech slightly and structure my sentences in an organized and direct manner, taking care to enunciate words clearly. Mr. Yoshimura was an intelligent person for whom I had the greatest respect. In no way was I talking down to him, but rather my intent was to be precise in the way I communicated. English was still his second language, and anyway, it seemed to me Mr. Yoshimura appreciated precision. We communicated well, but when speaking over the phone I had to really work at it. On this day I closed the door to my office so I could focus entirely on the small voice coming across the line.

After we had exchanged pleasantries, Mr. Yoshimura made a surprise announcement: I want to come see you at the Arboretum. I verified having heard correctly, then quickly told him a visit from him would be a great honor and I'd welcome it. I am driving to North Carolina next month. I am doing programs for the Triangle Bonsai Society in Raleigh and want to come see your Arboretum when I am down there. I told him it would be very good of him to do that, but did he know that Asheville was a long distance away from Raleigh? Mr. Yoshimura asked how far away it was and I told him it would be at least a four hour drive and probably more than that. Oh. There was silence on the line for a moment. I will come and see you anyway. Mr. Yoshimura made certain I understood he was simply paying a visit and could spend one day with me but did not have time to stay and do programs. We agreed that's how it would be and we'd make the necessary logistical arrangements in subsequent phone calls. One matter I insisted on immediately was that the Arboretum would cover the cost of Mr. Yoshimura’s hotel room for the nights he was in Asheville and we’d take care of his meals while he was in town. He agreed to this and said thank you.

I was very much excited at the prospect of Mr. Yoshimura coming to Asheville. His desire to visit was a clear indication that he was interested in continuing the teacher-student relationship we had, and the thought of going through the collection with him in person was both exhilarating and somewhat intimidating. I was determined to be ready for it. Right away I started to think in terms of how to make this most famous bonsai teacher aware that going out of his way to make a visit was appreciated, that it was a big deal to me and to the Arboretum. Soon a plan began to take shape. First I reached out to my mentor, Dr. John Creech. Would he mind coming to the Arboretum to be there when Mr. Yoshimura arrived? Dr. Creech said he'd be glad to do that and would welcome the chance to reconnect with his old friend. Next I paid a visit to the office of the Arboretum's Executive Director, George Briggs, and asked if he would mind to be there too, so Mr. Yoshimura would feel he was receiving the VIP treatment. George readily agreed to help welcome our honored guest. Then I pressed my luck and asked George if he would reach out to one of his contacts at The Asheville Citizen-Times, our local newspaper, to see if they might send a reporter out for the occasion. The Executive Director agreed to that, as well.

I had been given the phone number of a woman with the Triangle club who would be handling all the arrangements for the Raleigh portion of Mr. Yoshimura's visit. Her name was Helen Davis and I gave her a call. Ms. Davis told me Mr. Yoshimura would be staying in Raleigh the night of his last program for the club and then he would depart in the morning. She told me the hour of his scheduled time of departure and from there I was able to figure out what time we might expect Mr. Yoshimura in Asheville. I passed along that anticipated time of arrival to Dr. Creech, George Briggs and the Citizen-Times reporter. 

(Here it is necessary to once again remind the reader that all this took place in the days before everyone had personal computers and cell phones. All logistics relative to Mr. Yoshimura's itinerary had to be worked out over landline telephone or through the US Mail. News came largely from newspapers, especially local news, so getting coverage in the newspaper meant something. Having to rely on such quaint means of communication might seem laughable compared to how it is today, but at the time we didn't know any better and somehow got by with what we had. It was a different information environment, for sure, and it did have its limitations.)

On the big day, Dr. Creech, George and the newspaper reporter were all there at the appointed early afternoon time. The four of us all gathered together in the foyer of the Support Facility, where I had given Mr. Yoshimura instructions to go when he arrived at the Arboretum. The arrival time could only be approximate, an educated guess with a little wiggle room added for comfort, and everybody understood that. Mr. Yoshimura was a seasoned professional who had been doing this sort of thing for more than three decades, and he enjoyed a well-earned reputation for punctual reliability. So, when the expected time of arrival came and went and he did not show up it was not a big deal, and the four of us who were waiting for him passed the time in easy banter. I was singing Mr. Yoshimura's praises, explaining how important a figure he was in the world of bonsai. Dr. Creech joined in with stories of how he first met Mr. Yoshimura long ago in Japan, and the various important horticultural adventures they had shared over the years. We were relaying this information by way of enlightening the reporter as to the significance of the anticipated visit, but I was also hoping it would have good effect with the Executive Director. This day's mini-event could potentially be another means by which I could elevate the stature of the bonsai program. Imagine people picking up the paper and reading about a visit from a world renowned bonsai authority, coming to town to check up on one of his students, helping to shape a new public bonsai collection at The North Carolina Arboretum! This could not fail to impress the Executive Director, and that, in turn, would be good for the bonsai program.

The bottom line reason for all the fanfare around Mr. Yoshimura’s visit to the Arboretum, however, was to please him. The time I had spent with Mr. Yoshimura back in January gave me the impression he was feeling unappreciated for all he had achieved through his sacrifice and dedication, in a lifetime spent spreading bonsai knowledge. He was also feeling old and seemed to be in failing health on top of that. I wanted to make certain his time at the Arboretum reminded Mr. Yoshimura that he was still an important person.

The conversation in the foyer that day began to grow a little stale as the hands of the clock kept moving forward and Mr. Yoshimura failed to show. After half an hour, the reporter excused herself because she had an appointment to keep. After another fifteen minutes, the Executive Director took his leave for the same reason. Dr. Creech stayed with me awhile more and suggested I give the Triangle club contact a call to find out if Mr. Yoshimura had departed on time from Raleigh. I called Helen Davis and she told me Mr. Yoshimura had left a little bit later than anticipated, but that he still should have made it to Asheville by then. "I hope he's alright," she said. "He was not well when he arrived here. Yesterday during his demonstration program you could tell he was not right. He wasn't himself. I asked him if he was sure he could make the drive this morning and he said he was alright."

I relayed the conversation to Dr. Creech and he looked concerned. "I hope he's alright," he said. "There isn't much can be done about it if you don't hear anything from him. I hope he shows up soon, but I need to go now. What are you going to do?" I told Dr. Creech I was going to stay close to the phone and wait. Time went by. One by one, everyone else who worked in the building went home. I called my wife and told her what was going on and that I'd be late. It got dark outside. After some more time passed I finally heard a noise at the door and someone stepped in, but it was the Campus Police officer who was on duty that night. He knew the situation and why I was waiting. "Sorry Arthur," he said, "but I'm making the final rounds — it's time to lock the place up and go home."

I got home at 9:30 that night. My wife had already put the children to bed. I was completely distraught and didn't have any idea what to do about the situation. There was no way of knowing what had happened or where Mr. Yoshimura might be, but there was no doubt things had gone very wrong somewhere along the way.

Not long before 11:00, the house phone rang. The sound startled me and I picked up the receiver with trepidation, expecting to hear something terrible. Instead I heard Mr. Yoshimura saying hello. I was stunned for a moment, then blurted out, “Where are you?” I’m at the hotel. “What hotel?” I asked, confused because I never told Mr. Yoshimura which hotel he would be staying at. I expected to give him that information when I saw him at the Arboretum, to take him to the hotel myself and help him get checked in. I’m at the hotel you got for me. I was so shocked by this answer that for a moment I was speechless, then asked “What happened?” When I asked that question there was a bit of an edge to my voice. I had been so worried about him and now that I knew he was okay I felt relieved, but then right on top of that I felt a little angry — why hadn’t he let me know sooner? Didn’t he know how worried everyone would be? This selfish reaction was reflexive and I knew right away it was wrong, so I kept a lid on it. But it wasn’t wrong to want to know what happened, and I asked. Mr. Yoshimura chuckled softly, a sound suffused with hollow weariness, haunted by only the faintest ghost of humor. Bad day, was all he said. The telephone line was quiet after that. It was evident he wasn’t going to elaborate, and although I wanted to know what happened I knew it wasn’t time to press the issue. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll come by in the morning and pick you up. Is 9:30 too soon?” No. “It’s not too early? 9:30 is okay?” Yes. “Alright,” I said. “Are you okay?” Yes. “Alright. Get some rest. I’ll see you at 9:30 tomorrow morning. Goodnight.” Goodnight.

To be continued…