Each of us, upon birth, is dealt a certain set of cards.
I was born and grew up in Japan in – what I now know as – a dysfunctional family. It was headed by an alcoholic father who often became obnoxious and violent, mostly toward my mother, as he drank in the evening. Because of such a negative frame of reference as a child, I used to believe that all men, especially Japanese, were bad. Really bad. Naturally, I had zero interest in “becoming an obedient wife.” What’s the point of becoming someone’s punching bag? Marriage, therefore, was out of the question. No, thanks! In the minimum, no Japanese men had any chance of making the cut for me. Sorry, boys, it wasn’t you; it was me.
When I was a teenager, my life’s goals were to (1) become financially independent, (2) go to America, (3) meet my one and only hero, Van Cliburn, and (4) live alone, away from Japan, in peace and stillness.
When it came to marriage, my maternal grandmother always said, “Reiko, there is one person in this world who is meant just for you.” At the time, I didn’t pay much attention to what she had said.
Fast forward several years, the instant I met David, all the negative thoughts toward men went out the window. It was truly “love at first sight” for both of us at age 22. He was from America. He spoke English, my favorite language that helped me escape from the cultural baggage I held with Japan; and its hierarchical, male-dominant society. We were married within six months of our initial “Hi.” We still fondly remember sharing a bottle of grape Fanta at Mt. Mitake in western Tokyo.
We went through three wedding formalities: First, at the Setagaya ku-yaku-sho (an equivalent of a county office) in Tokyo – to make it legal in Japan. Second, at the American Embassy, also in Tokyo – to make it legal for the American side. And, lastly, to honor David’s mom’s request, a wedding at a Catholic church. This was held in Tachikawa, Tokyo.
The “feast” at our very small reception consisted of sushi (when the idea of eating raw fish, however fresh, was very scary to David) and bologna sandwiches (when I had no idea what bologna was). We were proud of the fact that, since we both held decent jobs already, we paid for everything ourselves. I think this humble start helped us become responsible adults rather quickly.
Looking back, my grandmother was right. I cannot help but think that David is an angel, sent to meet me in Japan directly from heaven in the skies above America. We’ve been married for longer than twice the time I had lived with my parents. How time flew!
Life has been very good to me, especially since the day I met David. Perhaps, the less-than-perfect set of cards I was dealt at birth was meant to be so that I would fully appreciate my life with David, filled with an abundance of love and affection every single day.
