She told me that what I thought
would not yet happen, had happened; that martial law had been declared the night before and that soldiers had
come to our house to arrest me at 1:30 in the morning.
Also, that the soldiers, being told I was away, had not
believed it and that they had searched the house for two long hours, opening every door, “including the door to
the refrigerator.”
“Why should you come home straight to jail?
Go on to the United States.
Maybe you can do something there about this.”
When will I see you and the children again?
And besides, I have money for only ten days!”
We can take care of ourselves.”
I was facing the bleak prospect of a long separation from my family.
I was neither emotionally nor financially ready for an extended exile.
And there was another immediate problem—although I was supposed to be an expert in foreign relations, I had no idea how far Marcos would or could go in getting me back to the Philippines.
Could Marcos, for instance, persuade the Japanese government to bundle me into a Philippine Air Lines plane to Manila?
Or, if I managed to leave Tokyo for the United States, would the U.S.
government turn me back at Honolulu?
My son [Toby, who had graduated from Tokyo's Sophia University] came up from Fukuoka, in Southern Japan, where he was training at the Matsushita Training Center.
We discussed the situation and decided to seek help.
I called Shigeharu Matsumoto, the distinguished director of the International House of Japan, who had more than once invited me to Tokyo for speaking engagements.