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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 10, Number 4, December 2016


Hiroshi Matsuoka
Nagoya, Aichi, Japan


Today, I visited my ancestor's grave and decorated the tombstone with chrysanthemums. After praying, I noticed a woman praying before a neighboring tombstone. It had been erected to commemorate the death of a boy, who 60 years ago was killed when a broken bat flew into the baseball stands and hit him. His tombstone was coincidentally built near my ancestors'.

“That is Mamoru Yamada’s tombstone, isn’t it?” I said to her.

“Yes,” she replied, surprised.

“I remember my brother told me about the incident,” I said.

She was the wife of Yamada’s nephew. I had never met him, but I happened to meet his relative today.

my mother cries
over her son's coffin



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