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Writer's pictureTakumigo

Cho Chikun's "My Resume" (27): The Medal with Purple Ribbon

original title:趙治勲 私の履歴書(27)紫綬褒章

Original article: The Nikkei

Author: Cho Chikun, Honorary Meijin


On August 7, 2015, my beloved wife, Kyoko, passed away at the age of 65. The cause of death was pancreatic cancer. Initially, she only felt some nausea, and when she went to see a doctor, she was told it might be “summer fatigue.” However, as her symptoms persisted without improvement, she consulted another doctor, who then informed her, "It’s already too late." Although this disease is difficult to detect early, I still harbor some irreversible regrets.


In the end, she passed away at home, but she seemed to believe until the very last moment that she would recover. Her cheerful and positive nature remained unchanged throughout.


We shared nearly 38 years of marriage, and she was an irreplaceable wife. Every time I won or retained a title, I would call her, and she would always sincerely say, "That’s great." It was to hear these words that I always strove so hard.


The day my wife passed away happened to be the day of the Ryusei Tournament final recording. After a period where I had not been performing well in title matches, I suddenly started excelling and made it to the final, with only the match against Kiyoshi Yuki of the Kansai Ki-in remaining. However, it was impossible for me to leave my wife’s side in her final moments. Although the organizers kindly offered to postpone the recording, I couldn’t request a delay for personal reasons, so I chose to forfeit the match.


Now, my wife rests in the cemetery we purchased early during the economic bubble, together with her parents. Only family members and her sister attended her memorial. I didn’t want to hold a large-scale memorial with many attendees.


I’ve always disliked events labeled as “ceremonies,” and I especially dislike funerals. The only funeral I’ve ever attended was for my teacher, Kitani Minoru. I’ve even told my disciples, “Even if I die, don’t come to my funeral.”


I feel quite sorry for the sponsoring newspaper, but I’ve never been fond of the “title award ceremonies” held after winning a title either.


Go matches hosted by the Nihon Ki-in are generally scheduled for Thursdays, while the award ceremonies are often held on Fridays. Even if a match went late into the night, the next day I’d still have to attend the ceremony, which made me feel exhausted. It also burdened the people I invited to give speeches. I always thought it would be better to hold an award ceremony right at the end of the match, like in golf.


That said, there were some unforgettable ceremonies, such as when I received the Medal with Purple Ribbon and the Chiba City Citizen’s Honor Award.


The Chiba City Citizen’s Honor Award was presented in November 1996, in recognition of my achievements in the Honinbo Tournament. It was the first time the award was given. The mayor thoughtfully prepared a meal suitable for my wife’s vegetarian diet, and we enjoyed a pleasant conversation during the meal.


The Medal with Purple Ribbon was awarded to me in the spring of 2019. On the day of the ceremony, I wore an ordinary suit and went to the Imperial Palace alone, only to find that everyone else was dressed in tailcoats and accompanied by their wives or others. It was a rare opportunity, and I regretted not dressing more formally or bringing my daughter along.


This may sound inappropriate, but I’ve always been a fan of the Emperor. Not only did I meet His Majesty, but on the return bus, I also had the chance to sit next to singer Sayuri Ishikawa, who received her award on the same day. We shook hands and took a commemorative photo. It was truly a happy day.


Many seniors in the Go world have received similar honors, so in that sense, I was simply following tradition. However, as a Korean, receiving such an honor is quite rare, and it holds special meaning for me. If this can serve as encouragement for other Koreans living in Japan, that would bring me great joy.


By the way, my late wife and children are all Japanese nationals, and it would probably be a natural step for me to naturalize as well. However, Korea has endured a tragic history between major powers, and I have deep feelings for the country, so I’m unwilling to give up my Korean nationality. I have established my grave in Japan to express my gratitude to the country for the honors and wealth it has given me. When I pass away, if part of my ashes can be scattered into the sea off the coast of Busan (Korea), I would be very grateful.

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