David & his Mom
At Miya’s in 1983, David Hayden spun out endless steaming plates of tuna teriyaki from the tiniest kitchen in town.
When I was nine, David took me camping to Canada. I went fishing and made sunfish soup. When one of the other kids poured too much salt in it – upsetting me, David fixed it by adding potato. Later, I glowed as the adults complimented me on my soup, as they navigated through the piles of bones and scales and eyeballs floating in it.
When I was fourteen, David and I wrestled on the carpet of Miya’s. David got a bump on his head. “Davuuuuuuuu!” I heard my mom reprimand. “…but it is common sensu!” I chuckled but David felt bad whenever my mother was upset. He was her protector and if the Japanese believed in guardian angles, David was my mother’s.
David retired from Miya’s to take care of his mother and passed away shortly after she did. At the end of his life, my mother and I and a great man named Bill Fischer were among the only few peoples he wanted to see.
At home, my mother has a traditional Japanese ancestoral shrine where she prays. The ashes of my grand parents are kept there. Some of David’s are too.
Recently, I found a letter that was written to my mom in 1993 by David. He had worked at Miya’s for over a decade at that point.
Dear Yoshiko,I want to thank you for caring about people, for caring about their health and growth as human beings first. You never did anything just for profit or for fear of losing money.You set an example by your faith: with the courage to hold onto right principles no matter what the cost. Someone can be a good person and a good businessperson. Thank you for your patience and strength. I will not forget them.With special regards – David
