Author: admin

After three days of hard rain that turned shallow creeks into raging rivers, made cow pastures treacherous to man or beast, and flooded roads and byways, the morning of January 10, 1949 broke frigid, with a blustery west wind spitting BB-sized sleet pellets from a gunmetal gray sky, snapping off tree limbs and cutting through winter clothes like a needle.

One Sunday afternoon I drove into the Japanese countryside trying to locate Mikawachi Junior High School from a hand-drawn map with English landmarks. I crossed and re-crossed the same set of train tracks several times before I threw up my hands and declared myself lost.

I knew two ex-cons. One was the art-director of a small publishing house, and the other was a former student of mine. The former was protected by the mob because he didn’t squeal on who hired him to do whatever he did. My former student had to fight to keep his integrity and has the scars to prove it.

The bustier was a metallic phosphorescent blue. “Butterfly wings,” I thought, as I fastened the hooks and eyes which closed the back seam. It fit like a second skin.