For posterity: my thoughts on JAPAN

In light of the recent earthquake, I thought I'd share some of my thoughts about my beloved Japan.  I call in "my beloved" even though I have never been there.  My dad, a first-generation member of the Church (sort of), served his mission in Japan, and I grew up hearing stories about the beautiful land and the generous people there.  I loved watching Big Bird in Japan and singing along to all of the songs with my sisters (which we could STILL do if you asked us!).  Dad used to make up stories and phrases that incorporated Japanese words, like the itchy-kneed son and "don't touch my mustache" (p.s. you can hear that in Toy Story II when the guy is on the phone...it's a goofy Americanization of dou itashi mashite, which means "you're welcome" in a more formal Japanese).  :)

Then I grew up into a very teenagery teen, not so much in talking back or rebelling but in wanting to assert my independence and seeking out friends over family.  When it came time to decide what language I wanted to study, I chose French because, well...my best friend was going to take it.  Don't get me wrong, I love the French language a lot and I grew to learn a lot about a very different but equally beautiful land and culture.  But, looking back, if I could do it again I'd pick Japanese.  Not because of the earthquake.  I regretted that much earlier.

It started my last year at BYU when I had a Japanese roommate.  She was studying English at the language center there so we never really communicated much.  She said I had pretty good pronunciation, but I didn't speak often enough for her and I to ever get really well-acquainted.  I insulted her with a nickname that involved kawaii (which means cute--I meant it in a positive way, but I understand now how that could have been insulting for a well-educated late-twenty-something-nurse who was tired of people not taking her seriously here just because she didn't know English).  She still loved me.

After my hip injury that led me away from BYU, but before I was at Purdue, I found a job in a factory here in Lafayette that was Japanese-owned and run.  At this same exact summer, a bunch of friends and I started getting into Asian dramas (one of them had been into them for quite a while but she finally decided to share with the rest of us!).  I absolutely LOVED talking with the Japanese people I worked with, learning new words or phrases that I would hear in later episodes.  I loved even more when I would "discover" a new artist or show and bring it to them and see this wistful look on their faces.  They made CDs for me.  We threw a truly Japanese good-bye party for them when they left.  They called me sensei, which is a title I don't take lightly.  While I don't miss working in the factory, I DO miss the kindness I always felt from them, the willingness they had to teach me (slowly and laboriously), and the encouragement to eventually visit.

I used my tax return that year to buy the Rosetta Stone software for Japanese (although my sister, who actually studied it in college, is borrowing it for the time being).  I had every intention of finishing up my degree and then teaching (maybe English, or maybe just in an English-immersion school) in Japan...then Paul came along and my dream changed.  :)  That's not a bad thing, in spite of what he thinks.  He didn't keep me from anything or hold me back at all.  I just wanted something different after he and I started getting serious and talking about marriage.  But we both (he DID study Japanese in high school) talk often about going to travel/visit/maybe-someday-even-live in Japan when we can afford to travel.  The people and the beauty of the land and the rich history and culture beckon to us in a way that all the other countries on our someday-we'll-get-there list just don't.  Japan is a great example, historically, of adjusting, changing, rising to meet challenges and overcoming obstacles.  I hope that, in the wake of this disaster, that spirit of triumph will stir within the people, and that they can receive of the kindness, gentleness, and generosity that they put out into the world.