Bob(Dad)
Bob Shimabukuro, my father, often signed his cards and letters as “Love, Bob(Dad).” I always found this amusing, as if I needed a reminder of his role in my life. In a letter to my maternal grandparents, he reflected on a time when I was two years old and would interchangeably refer to him as “Dad” and “Bob,” showcasing a humorous anecdote of our interactions.
During my early years, I predominantly addressed him as “Dad” after commencing school. However, in recent times, I’ve noticed a resurgence of this mental code-shifting, attempting to reconcile the multifaceted persona of Bob as not only my father but also a woodworker, chef, community organizer, caregiver, husband, brother, and writer, all of whom we bid farewell to nearly three years ago.
This process of blending codes has become both a journey and a requisite as I collaborate, or rather, accompany others in developing the Japanese American Museum of Oregon’s upcoming exhibit: .
Sharing Bob(Dad)
In the summer of 2022, Chisao Hata, the Creative Director at the Japanese American Museum of Oregon (JAMO) and a longstanding family friend, visited Seattle and expressed her desire to meet me and my stepmother, Alice.
As one of Bob(Dad)’s closest friends, Chisao was among the first individuals I invited to speak at his virtual memorial. However, since his passing, I had limited in-person interactions with his friends, each encounter reigniting the pain of loss.
Initially hesitant, I was apprehensive when Chisao proposed featuring Bob(Dad) in the JAMO’s Lasting Legacy series. I was not prepared to memorialize Dad(Bob) or encapsulate his life using terms like “legacy.” Despite Dad(Bob)’s admiration for Nakashima and Tsutakawa, I felt it was incongruous to include him in a series alongside two globally renowned artists.
Despite my reservations, Chisao persisted, acknowledging the timing and underscoring Bob(Dad)’s broader significance. Over tea on my deck, she convinced Alice and me that a tribute to Bob(Dad) could be meaningful and contribute to expanding our perception of legacy.
Chisao’s persistence and persuasiveness have been unwavering.
Over the past eighteen months, Alice, my brother Zenwa, and I have collaborated with Chisao, Roberta Wong, the JAMO team, and Bryan Potter Design in Portland to curate the forthcoming exhibit. Craft, Community, and Care, scheduled to debut on February 17, 2024.
In the spirit of his column IE “Bull Session/Fo’ Real,” allow me to share a few poignant memories and reflections on the themes of the exhibition.
Craft: Distinct/Extinct furniture
Many individuals acquainted with Bob(Dad) in Seattle primarily recognize him as a writer and community organizer. However, throughout my formative years in Portland, Dad(Bob) was predominantly a woodworker, contributing to Oregon’s craft and design movement. Initially named New World Woodcraft, a nod to the labor newspaper his father and uncle operated for Maui’s Okinawan community, Shin Jidai (New Era), his workshop was later rebranded as Shimabukuro’s Distinctive Furniture.
During my childhood, while I may not have grasped the term “distinctive,” I associated it with dinosaurs. Hence, I humorously dubbed the workshop “Dad’s Extinct Furniture.”
Dad(Bob) found this amusing, enhancing our shared moments of levity. Our relationship was characterized by mutual efforts to uplift each other’s spirits.
Care: The Breath and the Word
As a child prone to public outbursts, there were instances where Dad(Bob) would console me by regulating my breath through gentle words:
Hey
Hey
Hey
Harmonizing his words with his breath, steadying mine.
Community: Tree Father
Residents of Portland familiar with Bob(Dad) recognize him not only as a devoted father but also as a nurturing figure to two young girls, Meggan and Kendra. Termed as hippie sisters by some, chosen family by others, and community by many, our bond transcended conventional labels.
Despite his aversion to the notion of being a “godfather” due to his disbelief in a higher power, Bob(Dad) assumed the title of Tree Father after a poignant conversation with his brother, Sam, who revered the sanctity of trees. This newfound title resonated with Bob(Dad)’s identity as a woodworker and his reverence for the vitality of trees.
Dad(Bob), As we prepare to unveil the exhibition, there are days when I struggle to share your story. I grapple with the notion of encapsulating your essence in anecdotes, magnifying your presence through life-sized images, or inscribing “legacy” on museum walls.
It has been three years since I received that message from your wife, urging me to come. Yet, numerous fibers within me resist relegating you to a memory.
Condensing a life that comprises myriad relationships and encounters, some of which I partook in and others we chose to divulge, is a daunting task. Collaborating within constraints, amid divergent viewpoints, while fulfilling educational responsibilities, co-parenting a teenager, and navigating efforts to combat ongoing atrocities has at times left me in a whirlwind, unable to focus.
On brighter days, I recall your voice:
Hey
Hey
Hey
You gather the scattered fibers, anchoring me back together.
Pause for a breath, you advise, then continue onward.
And always have someone by your side. No need to traverse alone.