MY LIFE AND TIMES IN YOKOHAMA could have gone on forever. They should have, but they didn't. It was a time when almost everything was perfect, yet at the same time, totally screwed up. Their was a lot of unrest in southeast Asia; there was much going on that I knew nothing about. Had I been able to predict the events of the next few years, I could have become an Admiral. I was young. Who hasn't been at one time or another? There are good times to be young and bad times to be young. I would have preferred to have delayed my youth. That is to say, extended it for as long as it was necessary to get my mind focused on the distant future. Looking back on those times, I am glad I experienced them. Among those days and nights exists a memory that has sustained me in times of deep despondency, in times when I felt I had left all on a pier on cloudy morning in December of 1963. Images somehow return with age and seem nearer now than then. It's strange how much closer I feel to that yesterday today than I did when it was so much closer to real time. Has my heart and mind been healed by time? Perhaps. And I have no guarantee that I will not be going back to that pier someday and resume what had to be delayed. Such is the mystery of love and yesterday. Yokohama, you were there when I needed you and there you have remained, your gardens, coffee shops and little places in Motomatchi remain for return in the hours before dawn when my restless soul seeks to escape back, back to another time and another place.
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