A shadow crossed the world with the passing of Mary Kiguchi and the loss of the love, light, warmth, and happiness she brought to those who knew her, beheld her beautiful smile, and felt her welcoming presence. She unexpectedly succumbed to a medical condition at her home in Ventura, CA, where she had been a source of joy and smiles up to the last moments she shared with us.
From her birth as the youngest of three children born to Japanese immigrants in Seattle, WA, to the days of WWII as a young woman in the Japanese internment camp in Minidoka, Idaho, to her journey to life in California by way of Salt Lake City, Hideko Kumagai developed into a beautiful, intelligent, and gracious woman with a memorable presence not easily forgotten by those lucky enough to know her. While “Honey,” her family nickname, forever reflected her personal essence, “Mary” was the American name she chose for herself as she envisioned the person she would become.
Mary's smile and laughter were infectious; she was unassuming and unpretentious and able to see the good in everyone and everything. Even in the dark days of WWII, as a young woman thrown together with other young people on hiatus from real life, Mary rose above the injustices to appreciate the camp community and make the best of the situation – enjoying the social scene, dances, and parties. As the years passed, the dark memories fell away and the more meaningful moments of human connection and shared fun endured.
After the war, Mary traveled with her family as they searched to put down new roots, eventually settling in southern California. She loved drives in the countryside with her father, enjoying the beautiful and varied scenery. Mary learned secretarial skills and began working, meeting a group of women with whom she would remain friends for life. Those friendships, extending through marriages, families, moves, and losses, were a source of love and connection for nearly 70 years.
The tall, upright, striking silhouette, unusual in a Japanese-American woman of her era, set Mary apart in the world, and also hinted at the strength of will and spirit within. It was no accident that Sam Kiguchi, the tall Japanese-American chemical engineer who turned many a pretty head with his Texas drawl and funny jokes, asked Mary to be his wife. Beyond what may have outwardly attracted his attention – her beauty, poise, maturity, graciousness ¬– her strength, adventurousness, and independent thought may have been less immediately acknowledged. She possessed the self-confidence to hold her ground to receive respect from him as well as others. Mary would be the one to stand by Sam against post-WWII social prejudices and forge a path in cultures and communities unfamiliar to either of them - but always in a cultured, dignified way. Mary was a woman self-taught in many areas, and social comportment was no exception. Emily Post was the unquestionable authority for her family. Up to her last days, she could be heard lovingly, laughingly, but seriously chastising her daughters to stop flicking their hair in a dining room and to keep their voices low (even while shouting to their nearly deaf father).
Sam and Mary married in 1951 and a year later their son Stafford was born. Three years later they had their first daughter Laurie and moved from Los Angeles to Pasadena. Kim and Jamie were born four and two years later. While Sam focused on his career, spending long days at the office and traveling for weeks at a time, Mary was responsible for raising their big family, running a household, and supporting a husband with exceptionally high expectations of not only himself but his wife and children as well.
Mary rose to the task with her intelligence, strength of character, patience, and competence. Yet even with the weight of these responsibilities, Mary loved new experiences. She jumped at the chance for her and the two children at the time to accompany Sam on a business trip to Japan, living there for six months. She was willing to do the same in South Africa, until it was learned that apartheid would make that possibility untenable.
Next came the opportunity to move to Westport, Connecticut, and Mary again jumped at the chance. She wanted the best for her husband and children, and she herself loved nature and especially the forest. While still living in Pasadena, she and Sam bought mountain property in Lake Arrowhead, CA, where Mary loved being among the pines and flowers. In Connecticut, Mary was in paradise, living on 2-1/2 acres of woods in a rural area cut by streams and near the ocean. She and the family dog went on long walks through the woods and reveled in the wildflowers, sweet scented lilacs, dogwood trees, and fall colors of New England. She would be the first to deny she was a scientist in any way, but her curiosity, observational skills, sensitivity to form, light, color, and scent, made her a naturalist with a soul that many scientists lack. She inspired this interest and appreciation in her family too – one of many gifts we are blessed to have.
As her children grew and changed, Mary did too. Until her son went off to college, Mary stayed home to be with the children. When the family moved to Newport Beach, CA and the girls were more independent, Mary felt ready for a new challenge herself and began working at the University of California at Irvine. Being in a college environment and around college student lifestyles opened her mind to new ways of looking at the world, her children, and herself.
Sam and Mary left their “independent” children behind with their next move to Missouri City, outside of Houston, TX. Sam was happy to work once again in the Lone Star State; Mary was happy he was happy. When Sam retired for the first of three times, Mary was even happier as they returned to their mountain home in Lake Arrowhead. She loved the woods, the blue sky, the peace and quiet. Her children gave her many opportunities to travel, though – to England whose culture she so loved and where her daughter Kim lived for 6 years, to the Mediterranean on a cruise with daughter Jamie, to her children’s homes around the country. Her last move would be to Ventura, so she and Sam could leave the demands of mountain living and be close to Jamie and the extended family.
Mary’s children provided her with another joy of her life – five grandsons. Well into her 80s, she reveled in sledding down the snowy slopes of Lake Arrowhead; playing basketball, baseball, and soccer in the backyard; cheering at innumerable sports games, tennis matches, and sailing regattas - loving each of her grandchildren for the individuals they are. Grammy’s visits were a source of excited happy anticipation and joy. Grammy would play with you, she would love you, she would share her love for life, she would delight in you and make you feel special. Grammy was the perfect grandma.
Mary’s family and friends cherished her for the spirit that bounced and sang within her. Her outward smile was but a hint of the lightness and energy within – a wit quick as lightning, a love of laughing at herself in a joyful way that drew others in to laugh too, quirky and mischievous mannerisms that served equally well to make her point and make her family laugh. A woman of many talents - from avid reading, knitting, crocheting, embroidery, needlepoint, cooking, painting, and stained glass to being an executive wife, Cub Scout den leader, woodworking assistant, family banker, Mary did it all – and then, if she didn’t want to do it anymore, she stopped! She had a mind and standards of her own. But none of her choices was as shocking as when she stopped smoking cigarettes and switched to a pipe, lighting up as she joined Sam in his long-held habit. “I think I’ll smoke a bowl” was never something that one would have expected to emerge from her mouth. Although this habit was eventually abandoned, it was without doubt a distinctive phase.
As the years passed, Mary and Sam continued to make each other laugh, make each other mad, make each other better – and to love and appreciate each other. Their lives became entwined and interdependent, bound by shared spirit. When Sam’s body finally gave out and his spirit passed on in late February 2015, Mary was struck by grief. She struggled to make sense of her life without her life partner who was so long her reason for being. She adored her children and grandchildren, but Sam was her center. Her failing memory worked both for and against her, bringing relief but also recurring grief. Still, her spirit was strong.
People say that with age, the public façade grows thin, and one’s inner self, in whatever form it takes, is revealed. Mary had a rare and precious ability to light up a room, to make you feel like you were important, to make you feel that she loved you, and a beautiful smile that expressed it all. Always self-effacing, often in Sam's professional shadow, Mary would be the last to describe herself as important. Yet the impact she had on people’s lives was beyond important. Her long and happy life was marked by success in the things we value instinctively as children and grow to appreciate more and more as we age.
But all things come to an end, in unforeseen ways and for unknown reasons. Mary remained with us on Earth a mere 47 days after Sam passed. We trust that Mary is happy, unafraid, without pain or sorrow, with Sam. We know she is loved. She was our mom, she was our Grammy, our sister, aunt, friend. We loved her, we love her still, and we always will.
Mary was a gift to those who knew her. Thank you, mom, for sharing yourself with us. We miss you.
Mary was also preceded in death by her brother (Yuzuru), sister-in-law Sue Edwards, and brother-in-law Shig Kiguchi (Sets, deceased). She is survived by her loving children Stafford (Amy) of Honolulu, HI; Laurie (Stephen Reed) of Santa Cruz, CA; Kim Distaso (John) of Southlake, TX;, and Jamie (Kim Porter) of Ventura; grandsons Travis, Sam (Imogen), and Casey Distaso, and Brooks and Connor Reed. Mary is also survived by her sister Kiyoka Kurumada (Tom, deceased), brother-in-law Mark (Margie), sisters-in-law Masako Miyake (Shimpei, deceased) and Fumi Nakamura (Ty, deceased), grandnephews, grandnieces, great-grandnephews, and great-grandnieces. We will all carry your memory with us.
Services are under the direction of the JOSEPH P. REARDON FUNERAL HOME & CREMATION SERVICE, 757 E. Main Street Ventura.