At age 91, you'd think that Masaji Imai would be content to finish out the dog days of summer in his recliner with a good mystery novel and a tall glass of iced tea.
Instead, you'll find him at his computer, tapping out the story of his life to leave as a gift to his children and grandchildren. Although it would have required less work and expense, Masaji didn't want to write his thoughts in longhand or record them on tape for somebody else to transcribe.
"It's in my memory — it's my job to get it on paper," he says. So a few months after his wife of six decades died of Alzheimer's disease last year, Masaji bought himself a new Mac computer with a jumbo-size keyboard for his failing eyes and sat down to write.
Amazed at how quickly he adjusted to a high-tech lifestyle in his final years, Masaji's niece suggested that I join him for a Free Lunch chat at his home across the street from Murray City Park.
His story is certainly one that deserves center attention on the bookshelves of current and future Imai generations. Born in 1916 in Salt Lake City, Masaji was given away at age 4 to friends of his parents who were older Japanese immigrants without any children.
"They needed a son to carry on their name and my parents had two other sons," he says. "The Imais ran a store and were pretty well off. It was thought I would have a good future with them."
Masaji graduated with honors from West High School, with a dream of becoming an engineer. But after only a few semesters at the University of Utah, he dropped out and became a waiter at the old Western Cafe downtown, discouraged by the discrimination he'd witnessed against students with Japanese ancestry.
"Japanese college graduates were denied any meaningful employment and reduced to menial jobs," he says. "I decided it wasn't worth the struggle."
When his adopted parents announced that they wanted to move to Los Angeles, Masaji reluctantly went with them, feeling it was his duty as their only child to help them get settled. He was thrilled when Douglas Aircraft Co. called and offered him a job two months later, but his elation was short-lived.
Japan attacked Pearl Harbor the day before he was scheduled to start his first shift.
"All Japanese were considered poison after that," Masaji recalls, "so we spent many days hiding inside the house." He found work in Hollywood as an extra for Japanese spy movies, but with rumors of internment camps opening for Japanese-Americans living on the
West Coast, Masaji quickly moved his parents back to Utah.
Desperate for a job, he finally found employment in Soldier Summit mining ozokerite — a rare wax with a high melting point, needed by the military.
Although he had no intention of marrying, he fell for a vibrant young woman named Tia and settled in Carbon County to raise four children. "I was a confirmed bachelor, but she tricked me," he says, his eyes twinkling behind thick frames.
When Tia died last year, Masaji's children worried that he wouldn't be far behind. "But I made a decision — I had to keep going," he says. "I wanted to do something to retain the memory of my wife and the wonderful life she made for me those 62 years."
Typing his thoughts into a computer has become a wonderful form of therapy, says Masaji. And there is another bonus: He'll know how to format his own Web page by the time he's 95.
Have a story? Let's hear it over lunch. E-mail your name, phone number and what you'd like to talk about to freelunch@desnews.com. You can also write me at the Deseret Morning News, P.O. Box 1257, Salt Lake City, UT 84110.