Dean Okamura

East L.A. Japanese American family

Unlike many Japanese American boys of
The Baby Boomer generation,

I did not have a Japanese middle name.
I did not go to Japanese school on Saturdays.
I did not go to a Buddhist temple on Sundays.
I did not go to Nisei Week or Obon festivals in the Summer.
I did not have many Japanese friends in elementary school.

My parents wanted me to be the best American student with
Little emphasis on our Japanese heritage.

I am a Baby Boomer boy.

We drove from East L.A. to Little Tokyo,
Making the trip about once a month.

I remember shopping at Japanese stores for my Bachan (Japanese Grandma).
She bought Japanese rice candy for me.
Bachan liked special sweet shops like Fugetsudo on First Street, where
They had special Manju (bean-filled) confections.

So, shopping and eating were the limits of my Japanese experience.

Even with many Little Tokyo Japanese restaurants,
Our family's favorite place was Far East Cafe.
A Chinese restaurant.
I still recall the noisy kitchen with swinging doors.
We sat in dark cherry colored wood booths.
The male servers were kitchen workers
Sporting big white cooking aprons.

The food came within a minute or two.
Wonderful aroma.
Family-sized portions.
White serving dishes plopped onto the middle of the table.

We always ordered Cha Shu BBQ pork,
Chow Mein noodles,
Pak Kai sweet-and-sour pork,
and Hom Yu ground pork and fish.

Only my dad ate Hom Yu.

Most of the Far East Cafe customers were Japanese.
They ordered the same dishes.

So, perhaps we were a normal Japanese family?

kiri no sato [1]

In Wakayama,
mountains sit and watch
as clouds wander.
They change shape,
cast their spell,
move with magic.

"kiri no sato"
is the Japanese name
of this "Village in the mist."
It becomes more,
whispering my name.

The mist flows like fine silk,
making mountains shimmer,
hiding and revealing
trees and flora.
The air is cool.
The breezes are quiet.
Stillness rests.

I can stare for the rest of my life,
and when I have become planted
in the mountains,
it all disappears,
leaving me to remember.

---

[1] Takahara, Wakayama, Japan (2015)