When Dad was working at Mitsubishi New Zealand in the 70's, he was ably supported by few other good Japanese, many fine Kiwis, dear Scotsman and even a young gentleman of Polish(?) heritage by the sound of his surname. Surprising to look back on how much get together we went to as primary school kids but those were the days. Biz was good, families were invited to occasions, things were aplenty and there were money to be spent. I suppose I was privileged, I was lucky. No Internet, no cellphones. Norm Kirk would become the PM.
As I remember, Dad's office was in AMP building in Queen St to start with, then moved to Westpac Plaza before settling in Quay Tower.
I couldn't remember where Quay Tower was until I came to the conclusion that it must be the same building Mitsubishi NZ currently occupies. Different name though, AMP building, doing a full circle.
Mr. Yamada was a burly young gun, his first overseas posting with his young wife and their first baby. Such a cute, chubby, happy baby. Older kids on one occasion decided to cuddle him and pass the parcel, I mean the baby, until he spewed. What we didn't know, he had been helping himself to fresh cherries so out came cherry pips. He was fine, thank goodness.
Mr. Yamada passed away youngish. He didn't join his wife when she made her first nostalgic journey down under twenty years ago - their three kids and a niece in tow. This time she's with two of her children and two grandchildren. It would be nice to show her the old Mitsubishi building. So I thought. Maybe it was me more than her. Dad used to work there. So youthful. A Japanese staff couldn't be bothered to reply to my email. No more buoyant economy, those days are gone.
But Dad was here. We were here. And I celebrate that. Why not.
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