Journey to a Japanese Family
Ethan Hamilton (Horace Mann High School)
I may not remember any other “firsts,” those landmark accomplishments parents keep track of. But I
do remember one – my first favorite book. It was “Grandfather’s Journey” by Allen Say. Maybe it was the
beautiful illustrations, or maybe it was that my own beloved Grandpa always added in some personal
anecdotes, but this autobiographical story was the beginning of my own parallel journey to Japan.

Almost everything in my room has relevance to Japan. From the reproductions of Ukiyoe prints or the
Japanese style Buddha to the Domo-kun piggybank, I’ve assembled artifacts of Japanese culture through
careful purchases. Suddenly I sip my Oi-Ocha and snap back to the present. I was lost in my own little
Japan again. While other kids dream of becoming rock or sports stars, my own fantasies center on
connecting with a culture that I believe epitomizes both aesthetic and spiritual beauty. In addition to reading
that first story about Japan to me, my Grandfather introduced me to his own Japanese treasures. Grandpa
shared his books about Hokusai and Hiroshige and later read to me about the Showa, Edo and Meiji
periods. Perhaps my favorite among his treasures was his teapot collection, which somehow survived my
enthusiastic handling.

My Grandfather, however, couldn’t have grown up further from Japan. A first generation Jewish kid
from the Bronx, he enlisted in the army as soon as he was old enough after WWII broke out. Never having
been out of New York, he was shipped overseas once his training was complete. By the time he arrived in
Japan, the war was finally over. Grandpa was astonished not only by the hideous devastation resulting from
the war but also, by complete culture shock. He explained how being in Japan changed the way he looked
at everything. So much so in fact, that he came to feel more at home abroad than he had back in NY. He
illustrated his stories with gifts – a ceramic Buddha he’d fallen in love with and bought with his soldier’s
salary. A cinnabar box upon which my fingers have traced and retraced the carved cherry blossoms. I came
to understand why Grandpa had selected “Grandfather’s Journey” for me. It was striking how it was almost
the inverse of Grandpa’s own journey.

We continued to explore Japan as much as possible from home. This bond between us never felt
complete without an actual trip to our spiritual homeland. I’d been studying Japanese in school and had
completed my Bar-Mitzvah into adulthood. Grandpa began to plan meticulously and we debated our
itinerary passionately. Should we focus on Tokyo and be thorough or spread our precious days across the
country thereby having only a brief visit in each place? Because Grandpa and I both had medical problems
– and because neither of us ever did anything lightly – we settled on an intensive visit to Tokyo. From our
first lunch at a noisy noodle shop (soba for me, udon for Grandpa) to the shrine of the 47 Ronin, there was
nothing that appealed to only one of us. Together we drew fortunes at Asakusa and Grandpa, remembering
a long-ago visit, showed me how to light an incense offering. It was certainly the trip of a lifetime and
perhaps you can tell by now that it ended very sadly. Despite great effort, Grandpa’s heart, always
brimming with love, could last no longer. I made the trip home alone.

Thus it was with mixed emotion that I signed up for a homestay in suburban Tokyo last summer. Once
the Nakahamas picked me up, it was easy to fall in with the rhythms of their lives. At last I had two
brothers and between visiting Hiroaki’s school, playing PS2 for hours, or just joining in with the family’s
Sunday barbecue, I had much to distract me from my bittersweet memories. One weekend, the Nakahamas
planned a journey to Kamakura and along the way, we enjoyed eating at a decades-old family-run noodle
house. Unlike the lunchtime restaurant Grandpa had taken me to in Tokyo, it was a quiet place where we
sat at tables instead of at a counter. In a way, I now feel as though I have my own family in Japan. Still,
however, I dream of making another journey when my Japanese is fluent and my brothers and I can laugh
at my awkwardness when we first met. Above all, as I strive to accomplish this goal, I will always try to
make Grandpa proud.

Bibliography: Say, Allen. Grandfather’s Journey. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1993. Print.

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What Japan means to me
Sarah Lam (Bronx High School of Science)
Japan. This is the one word that would ring like a bell in my head. At a very young age, I had admired
Japanese artwork – mainly animation and manga. The artwork was beyond what I had ever seen in my life.

The drawings differed for different animation and manga. The eyes, hairstyle, and clothing- the style of
each artwork varied. At this moment, my life revolved around Japan.

I remembered the first time I saw Japanese artwork was during my 2nd year in grade school. At this
time, I had no friends, no companions; all I had were bullies, people who disliked me just from my very
presence. I remembered how no one would help me, how the teachers believed that these “bullies” would
never do such a thing, and how many people who saw my suffering stood idle, done nothing but watched. I
could not dare tell my family of such a situation, did not want them to worry, did not want them to be sad,
and most importantly, I did not want to see their disappointed faces. It was here and then that I was
introduced to animation and manga by my one and only brother. While watching these animations and
reading these manga, it shocked me to read and watched of such a plot. I laughed, cried, rejoiced, and even
had bitter resentment towards different scenes that were portrayed. I thought, “How very amusing. I wish I
can draw like that. Even if I can’t draw, I want to try to write a story similar to this”. During the time I
faced harassment and felt that maybe it would have been better if I wasn’t here, if I wasn’t alive, then
maybe everyone else would be happy, it was Japan that rejuvenated me. It made me realize that life was
harsh and that nothing can always be the way you want it to be. Just like Koyama Mitsuki, a character in
“Full moon o sagashiteru”, although her lover and both her parents deceased, and although she had a tumor,
she struggled to the very last minute to continue living. It told me that life is very precious and that you
can’t give up so easily. It told me to “Live. Strive for the people who love you and don’t you ever give up”.

Japanese artwork acted as remedy to my suffering by allowing me to be “me”. It gave me courage to face
my problems head on. It told me “ganbatte” which means “do your best” in Japanese.

Soon after, I learned about Japanese food, the language, and their history. The more I studied, the
more in love I was in with Japan. It fascinated me when I learned that the very drawings I fell in love with
was based off of Western aspects. It thrilled me to know that Japan was such a flexible country. They bend
to various religions, and countries. I had a teacher who once told me that Japan was a great country. They
adapted to different situations that allowed the Japanese to prosper. During the world war, Japan faced a
terrible crisis which was the possibility of being overrun. The Japanese prevented this from occurring by
taking in other countries beneficial aspects. They took Britain’s navy skills, and took Germany’s military
system which allowed the Germans to have a superior military. What surprised me even more was the
Japanese language. Hiragana, katakana, and kanji – many characters were based off of Chinese letters. I
tried not to get confused between Chinese and Japanese but it acted like a tongue-twister. The more I
thought, the more confused I got but I couldn’t get enough of it. I wanted to know more, learn more about
Japan and how it became the way it is today.

Studying Japanese history encouraged me to try visiting Japan at least once. Recently I found a
scholarship program that allowed high school students to travel to Japan and live with a host family during
the summer to experience Japan firsthand. I was thrilled to go however all my efforts were put aside and
labeled void by my parents. However I haven’t given up hope yet. I still study Japanese language, and
continue learning about their religion and history. If I get a little tired, a little angry, or a little upset, I listen
to Japanese music, watch Japanese animation or read manga to sooth myself. If I feel like I giving up, I tell
myself the magic word – ganbatte.

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