I was out roller blading and exploring side streets when I came across an older man and his granddaughter selling origami from their garage. They had some beautiful creations, at very cheap prices, and I could see the young girl was anxious for me to buy something. So I spent a few hundred yen and was soon on my way as I needed to get back home and prepare dinner.

Well it’s Friday night and I’m pretty certain my friend Tabata-san will be hanging out at the usual place. So I decide to go have a talk and perhaps a beer as well.

Sure enough, I find him sitting with a couple of young men telling them what Judo used to be like in the old days.

I wait patiently for an opening in the conversation, as I want to ask Tabata-san to talk more about a previous topic. His experience of being a Japanese man.

Drawing people into conversations that go beyond the surface is one of my favorite pastimes, regardless of where I am. I usually begin such conversations by sharing something personal about myself, while leaving the door open for others to do the same. In my Tokyo neighborhood I’m well known for this, and people seem to look forward to the opportunity of sharing time with me.

As my relationship with Okada-san and Ishida-san progressed, I began to have lunch with them once or twice a month. Usually we go to the same restaurant, and spend at least an hour together. The more I get to know them, the more I’m touched by their heartfelt expression of life.

I saw Okada-san on the street yesterday, and she invited me for lunch the next day at my favorite afternoon restaurant. She made it clear the treat was on her, because she wanted to show her thanks “for all my kindness”. I gladly accepted, and continued on my way to the train station.

I saw Okada-san again yesterday and she got very excited when I told her I had written some heartwarming stories about her recently. She particularly lit up when I told her my stories were mainly read by “gaijin” (foreigners).

“Oh my goodness,” she said, “Who would have ever thought I’d be playing some role in communicating to thousands of foreigners!”
“I feel a bit like the foreign minister,” she said, “But without all the political responsibilities.”

Well, it was about two months since I had seen Okada-san, when I saw her coming out of the dry cleaners.

“How was the meal?” I asked.
“Fantastic!” she said. “In fact, it has led to a whole new life for me.”
“Oh wow! DO tell me.” I replied.

Recently, as I was about to enter my local supermarket I noticed a woman perhaps in her seventies, having trouble getting her left shoe back on her foot.

The problem was that she couldn’t find a good place to steady herself so she could bend over and adjust the shoe

During my first year in Japan I hitchhiked for two weeks, visiting rural fishing villages on the west coast of Japan. At the time I spoke very little Japanese, and relied on the kindness of the people I met.

I visited tiny villages that had no hotels, and very few tourists passing by. Upon entering a village, I would find a kind looking soul, and pantomime that I needed a place to sleep.

As a young man, I attended the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. For me, going to North Carolina was very much like entering into an alien world. The culture of “The South” was quite different than the “Yankee” culture of New York City.

“Down South,” people move slower, take more time to make decisions, and talk much slower than New York City folk. Southerners have a lovely way of taking a simple one syllable word like “Yes” and rolling it around in their mouth so that a “Yankee” such as myself, feels like they have expanded it into three syllables.