Michiko's America

I’ve lived in the U.S. for almost a quarter of a century, but still find it hard to fully adjust to the rhythm of American life.  Time glides smoothly through the first half of the year; spring and early summer make me cheerful and confident.

Then, the school year ends by late June, and a two-and-a-half-month summer vacation starts.  During this long summer break, I use my energy to keep my kids’ schedule somewhat consistent: they finish their breakfast by 8 a.m. and then do some chores so that they don’t lounge on the couch for too long.  I also need to drive them to swim practices and meets, soccer camps and friends’ houses, and occasionally host kids gatherings at my house.  I work less during the summer, but it’s not easy to accommodate everyone’s schedules.

In Japan, school is open until around July 20, and the summer vacation only lasts for about a month.  The Japanese school year starts in April, and teachers will see the same kids after the vacation, so homework is a foregone conclusion. No teachers want their students to forget what they’ve learned.

My observation is that parents in the U.S. work harder during the long summer vacation to maintain their kids’ healthy lifestyle and their curiosity about life.  Over the years, I’ve asked my American friends if they wish that the summer vacation were shorter.  Their responses are more or less the same: “yeah, it’s too long” but “the summer is fun.”  This is a moment when I feel an insurmountable gap between Americans and myself.  I definitely wish it were shorter.  How about just July and August?  It’s still a month more than the Japanese summer vacation.

Come September, American students need to work hard to remember what they learned during the prior school year, and to get used to new classmates or even a new school.  Parents need to deal with paperwork, online registration, back-to-school nights and all that fun.  This consumes a lot of my energy.  By the end of September, I say to myself “I can’t go on like this any longer!”

And yet, that’s just the beginning of the accelerating roller coaster.  First comes Halloween; it is fun and easy.  But my spirits plummet when I go shopping with my kids for Halloween costumes and goods.  Thanksgiving items are already out on shelves, and I’m reminded that I should start preparing for Thanksgiving once Halloween is over.

Once in November, I keep my fingers crossed that someone will invite my family over for Thanksgiving.  I’m happy to bake a pumpkin pie, but turkey isn’t my favorite bird to cook.  I wish the Native Americans had taught the pilgrims to roast something else.  November is the busiest month for my family; my husband and daughter both have their birthdays around Thanksgiving.  I’m thankful that my husband was born and that my daughter made me a mother in November.  But time flies so quickly that November is always a blur.

Then, of course, a day after Thanksgiving, the holiday season starts.  This is exactly when I wish I lived in England.  In my real life in the U.S., my husband and kids buy a tree and decorate it, and I mail Christmas cards, shop for gifts and wrap them, have lunch with different friends.  We also go to our kids’ school concerts and other festive events.  I want to slow down and enjoy all of them, and yet, the days in December have only twenty-four hours.  If I were in England, I imagine, I could spend the entire fall season thinking about and preparing for Christmas.  What a luxurious time they must have!

I agree, though, that the holiday season is really the best time of the year; something special is in the air.  Is it because we wish for the best for the less fortunate and pray for peace on earth?  Or is it because of all the lights in town?  I love the holiday season so much that I wish we could end the year with it.  Alas!  We also need to get ready for New Year’s.

For several years, I cooked Osechi, traditional Japanese food prepared in advance, with a group of Japanese women.  Each of us would cook one or two items for the entire group, and then we would divide them up so that each family could celebrate the New Year with many different kinds of foods.  But I don’t do that anymore.  I do miss the fun I had with them and the food that I was able to provide for my family; however, cooking Osechi for Japanese New Year and cooking for American New Year’s Eve became physically overwhelming to me.

Also, as I get older, I have become more nostalgic for the quiet Japanese New Year’s Eve.  In Japan, we spend the entire month of December preparing for the New Year.  If you work, you tend to go to many work-related parties, but on the home front, things are pretty low key.  You clean your house and write New Year’s cards.  At the end of the year, you cook Osechi so that you don’t have to cook for the first few days of the coming year.  You also decorate your house with simple decorations to welcome the New Year.  It’s a lot of work, for sure, but then on the evening of the 31^st, we all sit down for dinner and relax watching the Red and White singing contest on TV, for example, and then eat a bowl of buckwheat noodles in order to discard the year’s misfortunes.

As midnight and the New Year approaches, some go to Shinto shrines to pray for good health and fortune in the New Year or to a Buddhism temple to hear a bell ring.  Mind you, though, this bell isn’t for ringing in the new year.  When I heard “ringing in the new year” the first time, I thought that was strange, as it’ll come whether you ring it in or not.  In Japan, temples’ bells are rung in the cold and quiet night so that we can renounce all earthly desires and make our minds pure and open for what the new year may bring. No glasses of champagne, no kisses, no confetti as the ball drops.  We say farewell to the old year that is receding slowly and silently, and welcome the new year as it comes into existence.

I love celebrations in America.  However, the velocity with which we tackle each celebration tires me out.  So, I have downsized my Japanese and American New Year’s Eve preparations in recent years so that I can have a bit of quietness at the end of the year.

When I wake up on January 1^st, I say to myself “Thank goodness, I survived it!” I take a deep breath in the same room where I went to sleep the previous night, but somehow everything seems fresh.  I don’t cook much today; we’ll have simple Osechi.  I can finally relax and not think about the next celebration at least until February when my son’s birthday comes.

Happy New Year!