This page celebrates the life of my mom, Kiyo Anne Fujimoto. Below are parts of the memorial service:

• a brief life history

• a slideshow

• comments I made at her memorial service.

• me playing my mom’s favorite piano piece

You can also view the program.

If you with so make a donation in her name, we have selected Assistance League of Long Beach. You can make an online donation.

Read by Kiyo’s grandsons, Kellen and Tynor.

Kiyo Anne Fujimoto was born in 1936 to Frank and Hisa Ishii, joining her older sister, Frances. Born in Long Beach, she and her family were in Jerome, Arkansas during World War II. Afterwards, they lived in Oak Park, Illinois, before returning to Long Beach.

Grandma graduated from Long Beach Polytechnic in 1954 and followed in her dad's footsteps by going to Stanford University. If you went to Cal or UCLA, she would almost certainly mention something.

She spent much of her time at Stanford engaged to Sumi Fujimoto. The two saw and wrote each other often, and their love for each other grew more and more. Right after she graduated with majors in Economics and Political Science, they were married.

In 1960, the couple bought a home in Downey, and once moved in, they never moved out. Grandma worked for Westco Foods, where she honed her accounting skills by day. At night, she helped grandpa with the bowling league sheets business. When Frank was born in 1962, she became a full-time mother but still found time for the bowling sheets.

Grandma jumped into motherhood with both feet as a Den Mother and PTA board member, continuing even after Dad moved out of the home. Never having played a musical instrument, she immersed herself in the world of piano with Dad, and became close friends with both of his piano teachers.

Grandma had a knack for hosting people at her home. Whether it be a birthday party, mochitsuki, or a semi-formal dinner, she always had a vision of all the details and worked hard to make sure everyone had a good time. Even one or two guests would get the full treatment. You knew that she really felt comfortable with you if she reheated foil packets of leftovers in the oven, put them on the table, and had you pick something sight unseen; she called that "mystery dinner."

Grandma would always encourage Grandpa to go fishing, and would go along. Whether it be summer in Mammoth Lakes or cold opening days at Crowley Lake, she was there with him. It wasn't unusual for her to out-fish him. Her secret? Let him bait and cast, then reel in the fish. While he unhooked the fish and re-baited the line, she would reel in the fish biting on his pole.

In 1990, she and Grandpa, along with her sister Frances and brother-in-law Bill, bought and built up what would become Lyon Supply, the art store in Long Beach they ran for over a quarter century. Of course, she managed the books and vendor relations. The store was part of the iAMart purchasing group for 15 years, and Grandma was a regular at the trade shows.

In 2008, Grandma learned that she had colon cancer. She approached it like anything else in her life; she found out what she needed to do and did it. After surgery and chemotherapy, she met her goal of attending her and Grandpa's 50th wedding anniversary party in June. She did have her good and bad days, but her determination never waned.

Grandma held dear all of her families and friends: Ishii, Fujimoto, PTA, music, and art supply. She loved traditions, but would shy away from the spotlight. Her favorite thing to do in the whole world? Making people she loved happy.

The video below is a slide show with a lot of photos of my mom that strike me as representative of various parts of her life.

Music:

Variations in C on “Ah vous dirai-je, Maman”, W.A. Mozart, K265; Frank Fujimoto, piano (1980)

Photos:

Frank Fujimoto, Mas Fujimoto, Sumi Fujimoto, Frank Ishii, Hisa Ishii, Bruce Monroe, Kay Ono, Mark Rabinowitch, Stacia Snapp, Irland Tashima, Kathy Tashima, Bob Wada, and others

Several years ago, I was collecting photos from my parents’ house to take home and scan. My life and memories with my parents are best represented by photos and oral history, which is why I was eager to try to catalog these visual memories. However, I opened one box which was filled with letters she wrote to her family in Long Beach. All but a few of them were written when she was at Stanford. I never felt comfortable reading them, but they felt important to keep. After my mom passed away, it was time to see what they said. I realized that much of what she wrote is relevant to my memories of her. These are some excerpts.

May 1, 1957 (a few days after her birthday)

Of course the biggest highlight was the watch. To say the least, I was surprised! I almost felt like crying, it was such a luxurious present—I just couldn't get angry with Sumi even if I tried—he worked so hard to get it and really it meant so much to him to give it to me, how could I ever get mad at him for getting it.

Getting gifts for my mom was always challenging. I knew she would express appreciation with whatever it was, but something she would be so elated to have? That was hard.

When I was young, my Aunt Frances would take me shopping for my mom’s Christmas present. One of the early gifts was a muffin tin. She was so pleased when she opened it, I convinced my aunt she would want the same thing the next year. And the next. And my mom seemed just as delighted.

I did find one present that I was sure would be meaningful to her. When she opened the first present from her first grandchild, she wasn’t just being polite when she smiled as she unwrapped…a muffin tin.

January 28, 1958

These typewriters here are about the worst that ever existed. The margins don't hold, the ribbon is old, the carriage return is about to break down all the time, the line spacer doesn't hold at all. Other than that this typewriter is in fine shape.

July 5, 1946 (age 10, postcards from summer camp)

Dear sister

Please send me more candy & gum please.

(Different postcard, same day, addressed to the dog)

Dear Wooly

Bow wow wow.

My mom wasn’t one to tell jokes, but she did have a sharp wit. One year at mochitsuki, she was trying to order some chicken to pick up. In an exchange that could easily be a Bob Newhart bit, I heard her say, “I would like to order four dozen pieces of chicken. … You don’t sell chicken by the dozen? … (Sigh) I would like to order 48 pieces of chicken. … No, thank you, we don’t need sides.”

November 24, 1957

Hurray! My last year here at Stanford and we won the Big Game.

Big Game is the annual football match between Stanford and Cal. In later years, the only time my mom really talked about college football was when Stanford and UCLA played each other. Since my dad and a lot of his family went to UCLA, they would be reminded when Stanford won.

She was also one of the few people I knew who would fill out a score sheet when at baseball games. I thought of that when I did scorekeeping for one of Kellen's teams.

Being one to do things her own way, she wasn’t a soccer mom, but was a piano mom. Weekly lessons in South Pasadena? She drove me there. Concerts or competitions all over the L.A. area? She and, often, my dad, drove me there. She only missed two of my performances, one due to health, the other due to distance. Those were the only two where I completely blanked in the middle. I had one more performance after that, and she drove up to the Bay Area with my dad and grandmother. That performance went great.

From the same letter

Also checked an ancient book out of the libe which hadn't been checked out for about 20 years and guess whose name was on the card. Frank T. Ishii! Book about monetary theory! Was I ever surprised.

My mom loved to read. Whether it be physical books or, later, electronic, she always had a stack that she would make short work of.

Later in life, she loved reading through cookbooks. I think she was thinking back to a time when she would host events at home.

October 17, 1956

Brower-San has complimented me by saying that I’m showing great improvement and that if I keep it up my grade will really go up!!! Finally all these hours that I put into the course is paying off.

When asked if she spoke Japanese, my mom would say that she took it in college, and that it took years to convince the professor that she didn’t know any when she started. Her sticking with it is not surprising.

That determination was never more evident than when she fought colon cancer in 2008. The initial diagnosis wasn't great, but she put her head down and went through surgery and treatment. She became a cheerleader for anyone who had any kind of cancer.

About her surgery, she joked that even though the operation was at (gasp) USC, her surgeon was from Stanford, so it would be fine.

Another story she loved to tell took place in the delivery room. One of the doctors looked at her, and said, “Ish?” (Her nickname at Stanford). She didn’t have her glasses on, but she tried to be graceful with small talk while giving birth.

Oh, one thing I want to mention about these letters is she usually signed them with, “Love ‘ya, Kiyo”. She used to sign notes and cards to me with, “Love ‘ya, Mom”.

Of all of my mom’s letters home, this one stood out.

January 31, 1955 (just into her second quarter at Stanford)

Dear Mom and Daddy,

This is not going to be a great literary piece, but just an expression of my love and appreciation to you both.

It has been almost nineteen years that it has been my good fortune, with the will of God, to be a part of your family. The highest compliment that I can pay you is that I am extremely proud of being your daughter and that in my opinion, I don't think that a girl could ask for any better parents. I am just beginning to realize all the hardships you people went through and never complained about them. I also realize that you people have gone through some of them to make life happier and easier for both Frances and me. I seen how much you people must have gone through during the evacuation, but I can't recall once when I heard you complain about it.

I am also grateful for your wisdom; with your guidance, I think that Frances and I were given a good basic background on how one should act and live. I hope that I will be able to live up to your expectations. Because of your hard work, Frances and I were able to go to college. I am really proud that I have been able to go to Stanford and I think that if it weren't for Daddy I would have never been able to go here. Daddy, I've heard you rave about Stanford all my life, and I don't blame you one bit. Stanford is all you said it was and even more. I'm really happy here—both in what I'm getting academically and socially. I’ve feel that at Stanford I can get a polishing off of my adolescence and can attain a sure step towards adulthood. I know that you have the respect of many people in Long Beach, not because you've been established in business for a long time, but because you are what commands everyone's respect. Both of you certainly have my highest respect in all phases. I hope that someday I can have such a happy and successful marriage as you two do.

Next year is going to be your silver wedding anniversary, and my only regret is that I won't be there to celebrate it with you.

All my love and a Happy 24th Wedding Anniversary

That letter inspired me to write one to her.

Hi Mom,

It has been sixty years that it has been my good fortune to be a part of your family. I know my life has taken a different path than you thought it would, but I feel privileged to have always had your support and love.

I’ve seen your life go through good times and not-so-good times, but I never saw you without your head held high. I never saw you unwilling to help others in their time of need. I never saw you having the slightest whit of regret for having married the love of your life.

Your parents had probably even more respect for you than you did for them. You did have as happy and successful a marriage as they did. You were a successful mother, using your wisdom to guide me on how one should act and live.

I know you had the respect of many people in Long Beach, Downey, and beyond, not because of your volunteer work for PTA or having been established in business for a long time, but because you quietly command respect.

Next year would have been your 65th wedding anniversary, and my only regret that you will not be able to celebrate it with us.

Love ‘ya, Frank

My mom’s favorite piece that I played was the Gigue from Bach’s Partita No. 1 in B♭. This was the first time I’ve performed in well over three decades, so while it was a bit rough, it came off pretty well.