Takeko (Tachan) Minami, a dedicated teacher, cross-cultural bridge builder and beloved mother, grandmother and friend to so many, passed away in Morgantown on June 23, 2024.
Though she was known as Tachan, her given name was Takeko, meaning “Child of Much Happiness” in Japanese. She would remark that this name was a lot to live up to, and yet she radiated joy and humor so effortlessly, a remarkable feat considering everything she endured over the course of her life.
Tachan was born in Osaka, Japan, on Feb. 5, 1930. Her father was Iwao Minami, a businessman and politician whose ancestors were courtiers and priests at Izawa-no-miya, an external branch of the Ise Shrine. Her mother was Ai Matsuda, who descended from the Muraji family of Iga, known for its historical affiliation with ninja.
Tachan was the second of five children and the youngest daughter, which put her last in the family hierarchy according to traditional Japanese values. Her standing in the family helped open her eyes to gender and class disparities. She and the family maid, with whom Tachan grew very close, would be served their meals after the rest of the family, and she would continue to feel a strong empathy with the world’s have-nots throughout her life.
Though the Minami family was quite affluent, Tachan experienced extreme hardship and privation during World War II. The family lived in Nagoya at the war’s outset and evacuated to Ise in Mie Prefecture after her father’s workplace was firebombed. The family had to move yet again, this time to Isobe, after their home in Ise was bombed in 1945 — an event that Tachan remembered vividly for the rest of her life. She was very close with her grandfather, Heizō Matsuda, who inspired her love of art and nature, and his suicide just days before Japan’s surrender was particularly devastating.
Although the study of English was strictly forbidden under Japan’s fascist rule, Tachan, determined and mischievous as ever, found a way to continue her English studies throughout the war. When she was sent away from home at age 13 to sew army blankets in a factory camp, she smuggled in a grammar book and taught herself at night, hidden from view underneath a futon. She saw this as a means of escape and of accessing truth amid all the propaganda surrounding her.
After the war’s end, Tachan was eager to resume her schooling, and at age 16, she was admitted to the Southern Presbyterian-run Kinjo Gakuin University in Nagoya, where she majored in English language and literature. In the wake of the war, schools were poorly equipped, and food was still scarce — Tachan slept in a converted horse stable and attended class in a former barracks. But she nevertheless built a vibrant life, dedicating herself to her studies and participating in choir and student theater. While at university, Tachan met her lifelong friend Emi Miwa, later Toyoda.
After graduation, Emi helped Tachan find work at the Nippon Telegraph and Telephone Public Corporation in Nagoya, where the U.S. Air Force was based throughout the Korean War. Tachan worked as an operator, directing incoming calls from soldiers stationed in South Korea. It was through this work that she came to appreciate the difference between experiential and purely academic learning. Her coworkers may not have studied Wordsworth and Keats, as she had, yet their spoken English was more comprehensible over the phone. She would insist on the importance of looking outward, of listening to others and learning from them throughout her life.
Ever since she was a young girl, when her father brought back an Enrico Caruso record from Germany, Tachan loved music and was fascinated by Western artforms. Though her parents forbade her from learning piano, deeming it “enemy” music, she would sneak over to a neighbor’s house to take lessons. Her passion for singing and choral music led her to join an American hospital choir in Nagoya. It was there that she met her future husband, Henry Ruf, a chaplain’s assistant. They married in 1954, despite the Minamis’ opposition, and sailed for San Francisco soon thereafter. Tachan would recall her early morning arrival, passing through the fog underneath the Golden Gate Bridge.
The couple settled in St. Paul, Minn., where Henry was attending Macalester College, and it was on the college campus that three of Tachan’s children were born: Debra (Debbie), Phyllis and Christopher (Chris). The family moved to Boston, where Beverly was born, and then to Atlanta, where George was born. Tachan gave birth to five children in six years, all while newly immigrated, and she was always so grateful to the neighbors and friends who helped her through the hardship of new motherhood and adjustment to American life.
Although public sentiment toward the Japanese was one of distrust and, oftentimes, openly racist hostility, Tachan was determined to forge connections and participate in the community. Before she was granted citizenship, in 1958, the threat of deportation weighed heavily on her, and she felt it was crucial that her children be self-sufficient. She impressed upon them the importance of independence, personal initiative, education and compassion.
After years spent working as a private Japanese language tutor, a Japanese-to-English translator and an instructor at the Berlitz School of Language, Tachan was hired in 1975 as a lecturer in Japanese language at West Virginia University. She was a beloved and highly industrious member of the Foreign Languages Department, co-directing the Intensive English Program for many years, orchestrating study abroad exchanges between the U.S. and Japan, helping Japanese students acclimate to life in America and developing her own pedagogical methodology, which she describes in full in her two-volume text “Japanese Language Teaching Methods” (1990). She was particularly proud of having devised an interactive teacher-training method wherein Japanese English-language learners were paired with American Japanese-language learners to practice both conversation and teaching skills and, in so doing, could cultivate a personal cross-cultural connection. Tachan was enthusiastic about the interactive and “living” aspect of language. She insisted that language is spoken and should therefore be learned using one’s whole body, not merely one’s intellect. She would incorporate physical gestures into all her language lessons. Her former students often recall how invigorating, unique and effective her methods were. She also taught courses in Japanese and Chinese history and culture, striving as always to promote intercultural understanding.
Beyond her teaching work, Tachan was very attuned to the natural world and cognizant of her place in it. She was a skilled forager of mountain plants — her coltsfoot recipe was especially delicious. Her inquisitive nature also raised her sights up toward the stars; she was an avid amateur astronomer, never missing the opportunity to view the rare alignment of celestial bodies.
Though fiercely independent and proudly rebellious, Tachan made a point of giving herself to other people — to her current and former students, to her neighbors and broader community and to her children and grandchildren. She seemed to have inexhaustible reserves of energy and time for helping others. Up until the very end of her life she gave Japanese lessons and, as many know, made and gifted her exquisite origami creations. Walking through the halls of Heritage Pointe — a community Tachan was so thankful to be a part of — one would see displayed on her friends’ doors the dozens of origami adornments that she had made. This was what was so important to her: sharing beauty, improving the world around her and bringing people closer to one another.
Tachan is survived by her brother, Mamoru Minami; her children and their spouses, Debra Ruf-Carson (Kevin Carson), Phyllis Watts (Bill Watts), Chris Ruf (Carla Morse), Beverly Matsuda, George Ruf (Taiko Ruf); her niece, Takako Minami; her grandchildren, Tim and Ben Carson, Sam Watts, Mia and Sophie Ruf, Isabel and David Grayce, and Ken, Emily and Melissa Ruf; and her great-grandchildren, Arthur and Gemma Carson.
She will be deeply missed by her family, countless friends and former students.
