furusato

This past year has been one of reflection. Time passes, as do friends and loved ones. Change is inevitable. My children have outgrown me, literally, standing taller than me now. Evidence in the face of my denial.

In spite of change -- or maybe because of it -- there is a place in my heart that I retain and nurture for my furusato: Gardena, in the South Bay area of L.A. Even though I have not lived there for more than a summer since I left high school, I still refer to it as “home.”

furusato

The place where I felt completely normal and average
not a model of anything, and certainly not a minority

Where I walked to school with a couple friends
across the railroad tracks on Normandie
hoping there wouldn’t be a train
when we were only six years old

Where I learned to play basketball in my backyard
and played tennis and rollerskated
on the smooth concrete of South Park
back in the day when the courts were new
and we all wore Dittos and rainbow pocket jeans

Where our club basketball team roster read
Ageno
Endo
Jung
Mochizuki
Monuki
Oyama
Sialana
Shiota
Tabata
Watanabe
and it was unusual because there were two names that were not Japanese

Where bento was something you took to school
not something you ordered at a restaurant
and nobody crinkled their nose and said "What's that?"
when you pulled out a rice ball for lunch

Where we knew what sushi was before it became trendy
Ordered from Sakae Sushi by the box
always wrapped in white paper and tied with a red string
Happy to play Uncle Min jan-ken-po (not ro sham bo)
for that last piece of ebi
I liked the saba better, but liked seeing Uncle smile
as we faced off
and I somehow won again 

Where I can still speak Japanese today
in one of the handful of Japanese grocery stores
and people are confused by my looks --
  What self-respecting Japanese woman lets her hair go grey?
  and what’s up with all the age spots
  (surely she knows there is no such thing as a “shimi-bijin”)?

Where my mom still has her yarn shop
a few doors down from the manju place
and you can still go to the Buddhist Church carnival to get
buttered corn on the cob
Okinawa dango
udon
teriyaki
and
of course
tamales

Where I was lucky enough to gather with friends and family
to celebrate the new year and years past
Sharing a moment with some who have changed my diapers
and others who I’ve “only” known since kindergarten or junior high

All of whom shared a time in their lives
when they called this place “home,” too

Time and distance have separated us
but we still share this space
that has shaped us in some way
Our furusato

As I lunge headfirst into this new year and one of my milestone birthdays, I’ll say a toast to all of you who’ve made my life what it is today -- Gardena homies and non-homies, alike. With appreciation and gratitude to you all, but especially to my better-half, who orchestrated my early surprise birthday celebration -- here’s to many more memories, and more milestones to come.

And ... happy birthday to all of my classmates who are hitting that milestone this year, too!