Michiko's America

When I came to the U.S., I was befuddled by the word “great”.  Everything seemed to be great in the U.S.  A great weekend, great restaurants, great kids and dogs.  I wondered if “great” meant that things were actually great?  Or were people just saying “great” in order to gloss over their true feelings and look happy?  Or was it just a customary expression without much meaning attached?

A British businessman told me that his American girl friend squinted her eyes and asked,

“What do you mean that you’re fine?”  He explained,

“You know, I don’t have any complaints about life, business as usual.”  She tilted her head and issued a long “Hmmm”.

But I get it.  There’s nothing wrong with just being fine.  Nothing extravagant happened but it’s good enough.  In my Japanese view, things can’t be great as often as Americans make it out to be.

“How are you?” “I’m fine, and you?”  Most Japanese can say this as a reflex because we practiced and memorized this pattern of greeting in class.  But as soon as I started living in a small town in Arizona, I realized that this was actually a conversation stopper, in a bad way.  “Fine” provides a good starting point in Japanese, but it appeared to sound unfeeling and standoffish to most Americans who wanted to start the conversation with an upbeat rhythm and cheerful note.

So, I soon adjusted my starting point from “fine” to “great” especially on Mondays, and tried to extrapolate happy memories from my usual weekend activities.  In the U.S., the size of eggs starts at “large” and then is upgraded to “extra large” to “jumbo”.  In Japan, small eggs are labeled as “small”.  So, I decided to apply the same inflation ratio to my conversation.  “We had a great time at my son’s soccer game (although they lost)” or “We didn’t do anything special, but that’s what we needed.  Very relaxing.  It was great!  (I wish we had gone out for dinner)”

This positive thinking requires a bit of mind twisting, because things almost always could be better.  But, I suppress my “what-ifs” and accept the greatness of my quotidian weekend.

Two other words that requires different types of mind-twisting are “proud” and “love”.  I have looked up “proud” in my dictionary countless times.  To this day, I’m not quite sure if I know what it means in America.  “Great” is much easier because it’s totally subjective.  Even if I had BBQ chicken for dinner 100 days in a row, if I like it, then it’s great!  But the word “proud” seems to require more substance.  For me to say it without any qualms, I really need to have accomplished something concrete and wonderful.

As far as I can remember, I have only used the word “proud” in an English sentence once.  When my son was little, he lived between reality and his dream world.  Sometimes I couldn’t tell if he was talking about what he had really experienced, or dreamed about, or a mix of the two.  One evening, he started talking about his fabulous soccer movements.  I didn’t think he was fibbing, however, it sounded as if he was exaggerating them.  Still, I wasn’t sure.  My husband would be home shortly.  He is a gentle father, but very fact-oriented.  I smelled potential trouble.  I lowered my voice and whispered,

“I’m already proud of you.  So, you don’t have to impress me.  Do you understand?”

I surprised myself, because my use of the word sounded authentic.

Japanese can be proud of a public figure like a Nobel Prize scientist or a group of volunteers for their deeds.  Their achievements or noble intentions are admirable, and we can all share feelings of pride together, saying “That’s amazing” “Awesome!”  But we don’t typically use the word “proud” when we express our feelings of pride.  Also, we hardly ever express in public our pride of our family members.  If I did, it could sound obtrusive and less graceful in Japanese.  So, personal pride is usually kept private.

My relationship with “love” is more complicated.  I have a peculiar difficulty: I can’t bring myself to say “I love you” to my husband.  It’s not because that there’s no sound of “l” and “v” in Japanese language, and my “I love you” can sound as “I rub you”.  It’s just hard to say something in English that goes unsaid in Japanese.  Most of my Japanese friends in international marriages seem to have the same issue.  For Japanese, marriage is more about commitment than romantic love.   Besides, America’s romantic love seems over-rated.  Americans say “I love you” to each other, but the next day one of them may decide to quit loving the other.  Precarious.  Ephemeral.  Words are not trustworthy!

But that is not the point here.  My husband is American who wants to hear me saying it.  Think it as a gift of a word! I command myself, and yet somehow those three little words refuse to come out.

The right translation of my feelings towards my husband is “I care about you.”  In my own internal version of an English dictionary, it means that “you” are more important than “I”.  Conversely, “I love you” means “let me express my feelings towards you”.  It sounds as if “I” value my feelings more than yours.  Therefore, it sounds less loving.  I know I’m doing this to myself and lament how my mind works.  But, this is a cultural spell I can’t break easily.  Pride and love are universal feelings, and yet, not every culture expresses them in the same way.

I want to say to my husband who will proof-read this essay that I’m working on it!  It’s just that the transition from “care about” to “love” is much harder than the one from “fine” to “great”.