This year’s Day of Remembrance began early for me, and—of all places—on social media. I read Densho’s request to change my Facebook profile picture to Frank Fujii’s logo “Ichi-Ni-San,” which was used for the 1978 Day of Remembrance in Seattle 1978, and changed mine on February 15th. It was heartening to see …
There’s something about pastries, the ephemeral pleasure of appreciating something small and sweet, or savory and crunchy. For immigrants, expatriates, and travelers, it can be a bittersweet pleasure to find a taste that evokes the memory of a place; it’s like a taste of both transience and home.
If you knew my Auntie Nesan, you knew her laugh. My cousins and I called her “Nesan” (older sister) because of family tradition; as the oldest of six siblings, all of our parents called her “Nesan,” so we did too. Her real name was Hisa. Since my name ends with “ko,” …
How would you prepare for a showing of your own artwork—one that spans a career of more than six decades?
The taiko players are warming up, their arms circling up in the air and back towards the drums. I’m standing on a gravel path, near a Japanese maple tree. There are metal lines running along the ground, which seems strange until I remember that I’m standing at the Prairie Line …
It’s hard to describe the shock of recognition when sepia history meets full-color present, when they can align so precisely. That’s one of the many gifts that the Bainbridge Island Japanese American Exclusion Memorial gives to its visitors.
Although I am not Buddhist, the circles of Bon Odori have always spoken to me. All the circles of dancers, all of their arms even raised in circles, mimicking the full moon. The round uchiwa fans, the strings of rounded lanterns bobbing slightly in the breeze, the circular heads of …
Two spirits are roaming through San Francisco’s Japantown. They’re charged with setting the universe right. One’s a bright-eyed young lady named Lucy Yamaguchi; the other is a 400-year-old foul-mouthed, crotchety spirit named Tenshi. She’s new to the job; he should probably have retired a few centuries ago. Will they succeed?
How else to say this? I am still returning. I don’t know how the telling will ever feel complete. What no one told me about the pilgrimage, what no one could have prepared me for, is how much longer the return has been than the journey itself.
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