potatoes, and salad. And Sally made great garlic bread. And Tami had spent a whole morning helping her mother bake chocolate chip cookies and cupcakes, and make homemade ice cream.
The drive to Palo Alto took an hour, and Uncle Tak drove her down University Drive, past the university, so she could see it. It was beautiful, but very different than what she'd expected. The architecture seemed Spanish or Mexican, and the lawns were smooth and green and beautifully tended. Hiroko had been hearing about it for years and it was exciting to finally see it.
“Yuji wants to go there next year,” Hiroko said, unconsciously slipping into Japanese, and her younger cousins all looked startled. And from the look on their faces, she realized that they didn't understand her. “Don't you speak Japanese?” she asked in English, as she stared at them in amazement. How could their parents not teach them Japanese?
“I never speak it anymore,” her Aunt Reiko explained. “And I'm afraid that now that my parents have been gone for so long, I'm pretty rusty. I keep promising myself I'll try and speak it with Tak, but we never do. And the kids only speak English,” she explained, as Hiroko nodded, trying not to look as shocked as she was. There was absolutely nothing Japanese about them, not even Uncle Tak. She couldn't imagine losing her own culture to that extent—he had been born in Japan. At least in Reiko and the children's case, they'd been born in California. But still, it seemed strange to abandon an entire culture. It made her feel even farther from home than she was, and she wondered what her parents would have said if they could have seen them. Her cousins were lovely people, obviously, but they were no longer Japanese in any part of them. They were Americans to their very souls. And Hiroko felt like a total stranger.
“You speak English beautifully,” Uncle Tak praised her, and although Tami didn't entirely agree with him, she didn't contradict him. ‘That must be your father's doing.” He smiled. He knew Masao had always had a passion for American language and culture. Takeo had wanted him to come over years before, but Masao had never wanted to risk his job at the university, and the years had rolled along, and it had just never happened.
“My brother speaks much better English than I do,” Hiroko told them, and they all smiled. She was doing pretty well, it was just that she still sounded very foreign. Just as they would have, with the exception of Tak, if they had tried to speak Japanese. But for Hiroko, it made being with them a lot harder. She really had no option. She had to speak English with them.
When they left Stanford University, Tak drove them down a pretty, tree-lined street, and Hiroko was surprised to see how large their house was when they reached it. It had been smaller to begin with, but when Tami came, they had finally outgrown it and Takeo had added on to it. They loved the house and the convenient location. Takeo taught at the university, and like his cousin, he was a full professor of political science. And in his case, he was the head of the department. Reiko worked at the university hospital. She was a nurse, although she only worked part-time now.
The house was well tended, with a generous spread of lawn in both front and back, a number of large trees, and a patio they had put in the previous summer. There was going to be plenty of room for the friends they had invited to meet Hiroko. And when Sally showed her their room, Hiroko was impressed with the large four-poster bed, and all the pink-and-white ruffles. It looked like something in a magazine to her. Sally didn't seem to mind sharing her big bed with her, and she had already cleared a small portion of her closet.
“I do not have many things,” Hiroko explained, pointing at the small trunk, which held not only her school clothes but her kimonos. She carefully took out a pink-and-red floral one to wear that night, just as Tami bounded
The drive to Palo Alto took an hour, and Uncle Tak drove her down University Drive, past the university, so she could see it. It was beautiful, but very different than what she'd expected. The architecture seemed Spanish or Mexican, and the lawns were smooth and green and beautifully tended. Hiroko had been hearing about it for years and it was exciting to finally see it.
“Yuji wants to go there next year,” Hiroko said, unconsciously slipping into Japanese, and her younger cousins all looked startled. And from the look on their faces, she realized that they didn't understand her. “Don't you speak Japanese?” she asked in English, as she stared at them in amazement. How could their parents not teach them Japanese?
“I never speak it anymore,” her Aunt Reiko explained. “And I'm afraid that now that my parents have been gone for so long, I'm pretty rusty. I keep promising myself I'll try and speak it with Tak, but we never do. And the kids only speak English,” she explained, as Hiroko nodded, trying not to look as shocked as she was. There was absolutely nothing Japanese about them, not even Uncle Tak. She couldn't imagine losing her own culture to that extent—he had been born in Japan. At least in Reiko and the children's case, they'd been born in California. But still, it seemed strange to abandon an entire culture. It made her feel even farther from home than she was, and she wondered what her parents would have said if they could have seen them. Her cousins were lovely people, obviously, but they were no longer Japanese in any part of them. They were Americans to their very souls. And Hiroko felt like a total stranger.
“You speak English beautifully,” Uncle Tak praised her, and although Tami didn't entirely agree with him, she didn't contradict him. ‘That must be your father's doing.” He smiled. He knew Masao had always had a passion for American language and culture. Takeo had wanted him to come over years before, but Masao had never wanted to risk his job at the university, and the years had rolled along, and it had just never happened.
“My brother speaks much better English than I do,” Hiroko told them, and they all smiled. She was doing pretty well, it was just that she still sounded very foreign. Just as they would have, with the exception of Tak, if they had tried to speak Japanese. But for Hiroko, it made being with them a lot harder. She really had no option. She had to speak English with them.
When they left Stanford University, Tak drove them down a pretty, tree-lined street, and Hiroko was surprised to see how large their house was when they reached it. It had been smaller to begin with, but when Tami came, they had finally outgrown it and Takeo had added on to it. They loved the house and the convenient location. Takeo taught at the university, and like his cousin, he was a full professor of political science. And in his case, he was the head of the department. Reiko worked at the university hospital. She was a nurse, although she only worked part-time now.
The house was well tended, with a generous spread of lawn in both front and back, a number of large trees, and a patio they had put in the previous summer. There was going to be plenty of room for the friends they had invited to meet Hiroko. And when Sally showed her their room, Hiroko was impressed with the large four-poster bed, and all the pink-and-white ruffles. It looked like something in a magazine to her. Sally didn't seem to mind sharing her big bed with her, and she had already cleared a small portion of her closet.
“I do not have many things,” Hiroko explained, pointing at the small trunk, which held not only her school clothes but her kimonos. She carefully took out a pink-and-red floral one to wear that night, just as Tami bounded
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