Maggie Ishino laughs at a photo shown by former Rafu Shimpo editor Gwen Muranaka last week at Kei-Ai Los Angeles in Lincoln Heights, during a small gathering to celebrate her 100th birthday.
Former Rafu staff member Maggie Ishino celebrates her 100th birthday.
By MIKEY HIRANO CULROSS
RAFU STAFF WRITER
She doesn’t walk unassisted anymore, and her hearing is shot, but that smile is as disarming as ever.
Maggie Ishino, the longtime typist and occasional columnist for The Rafu Shimpo, has reached a milestone she was certain she’d never see.
“When I was growing up, I never thought I’d reach 40 years old, that was so far away,” said Ishino, who celebrated her 100th birthday earlier this month. “Everything changes at 40.”
Nibbling on a slice of rainbow cake from King’s Hawaiian Bakery, the native of San Diego worried about having a bit of sugar in spite of her diabetes.
“Oh, my doctor’s going to have words for me,” she chuckled.
The low-key birthday party took place in an empty cafeteria at the Kei-Ai care facility in Lincoln Heights, where Maggie has resided for the past two years or so. I joined her niece, Kimmie Matsuda, and a couple of former Rafu staffers for the visit, with cake and balloons in tow.
Readers of her “Maggie’s Meow” articles will be pleased to know she is in fine health, hardly as frail as one might assume for a centenarian. She laughs constantly, complains about her usual pet peeves and whenever I stop by to visit, pulls me in close to share one of her “impolite” jokes. She particularly loves the one about the Japanese man who goes to see the eye doctor.
Maggie also asked if if would be okay to resume writing her column on occasion. I told her we’d be thrilled.
“I really want everyone to know how much I appreciated all the kind comments I received for my writing,” she said, wrinkling her brow earnestly.
George Yoshinaga, whose “Horse’s Mouth” column was a mainstay in local journalism for decades, regularly made mention of Maggie in his writing.
The daughter of a couple who immigrated to the U.S. from Fukuoka, she has outlived everyone in her family, as well as most of her longtime friends. She said her only regrets are that she never married and never traveled to her parents’ homeland.
She came of age during World War II, as her family was incarcerated at the Poston Internment Camp in Arizona. Her letters from detention to a local San Diego librarian became an integral part of the “Dear Miss Breed” book and adapted stage musical.
Maggie joined the Rafu staff in 1999, the year after I showed up. Our exchanges typically began as a a result of some frustrating misunderstanding she had with her Macintosh computer.
We hit it off before long, once we discovered that she and I share an affinity for old-time radio and television programs – Jack Benny, Burns and Allen, Jackie Gleason. We had a little routine we staged each day when she finished her shift: as she’s heading out with her bag and sweater, she says firmly, “Goodnight Chet,” to which I bark back, “Goodnight David.”
Our 20-something workmates hadn’t a clue that this was a reference to the Huntley-Brinkley news duo, which was a mainstay on NBC for the better part of 25 years.
She worked three days a week at the office, initially making the trip from her apartment in West L.A. in her custom sport-stock 1975 Chevy Nova. It was pretty amazing to see this tiny lady behind the wheel of a growling muscle car.
Later in her tenure, as her physical ability declined, she continued undaunted to make her way to the office, riding three buses to Little Tokyo. To help her cross busy Alameda Street to the bus stop, our former Rafu co-worker Ichiro Shimizu and I would slip on orange traffic vests and walk her to the bus stop, along the way sharing all sorts of stories and regular complaints about everything under the sun.
After a fall in 2022, Maggie’s nieces made the decision to move her into full-time care at Kei-Ai. She hated it, and wasn’t shy about letting me know. But it seems she has come to embrace those who assist her on a daily basis, and our visits are lively and fun, even though she occasionally remembers events that never happened and tells me, “It ain’t no fun getting old.”
She said no one is more surprised at her reaching 100 than herself, and felt obligated to offer some sage advice.
“Be grateful, and hope you can do something meaningful,” she said. “Forget about the past, live in the present, and look forward to the future.”
Taking a bite of the forbidden cake, she sighed with a smile.
“This was worth living a hundred years.”