Michiko's America

In the past, I have helped a number of white men at the supermarket.  Early on, I wondered why it was always white men.  Each one, like a cheetah in an African savannah, made a beeline to me once he had spotted me.  When it happened the first time, I was like, “Me?  Why?  What did I do?”  But it immediately became clear to me.  I looked like a typical Asian who would be able to help anyone who was at a loss in a supermarket and didn’t want to send a picture of what he had found to make sure it was good enough for his wife. 

The men invariably asked questions along the lines of “Is this good ginger?” I checked the color and texture of a ginger skin and gave them reassuring comments with a confidence of a true Asian woman, “This ginger is very fresh.  This will make your dish very flavorful.”  They would smile and quickly move on to the next item on the shopping list and start hunting again.

When the pandemic started in early 2020, I tried to reduce my grocery-shopping to once every two weeks.  Soon though, I started going every Tuesday because I cherished grocery-shopping as one of the socializing events that kept me balanced.  As the Japanese kerrias in my yard showed their white flowers, I thought the pandemic wouldn’t last too long, it would be over by July 4^th.  So, even though I was in crisis mode, I was sure it was temporary and I wanted to make that brief period of time fun for my family. 

As a starter, I decided to buy junk food for change and brought a family size chocolate Oreos to the cashier.  The lady at a register was so nice and said, “Oh, these are so good!  Enjoy!  But I can’t buy this because my mother tells me that I should keep my money for good healthy food.”  I could tell right away that she was being honest, and I wanted to give the Oreos to her, but I thought she may not appreciate my cheap gesture.  She handled my asparagus with care and said “Make sure the top part won’t be damaged,” as I put it in my shopping bag.  I asked “You don’t seem to be stressed out about the COVID situation.”  Her reply was “I’m good at handling difficult situations.  It’ll take a lot to stress me out.”  I wished I could learn how to do that from her.

As I was getting ready for another trip to the supermarket, my son got off the phone and requested Rice Krispies Treats for his friend who was coming over.  I’d never bought them before, so I did an online search and memorized the look of the package.  Or I thought I did.  Of course, once I was at the supermarket, I couldn’t find them anywhere.  I walked back and forth in the huge store, and became desperate. 

Luckily, an African-American lady with a supermarket badge happened to come by.  “Hi.  Sorry, I’m looking for Rice Krispies.”  She tilted her head and said, “I know they’re good, but they’re not good for you.  Do you really want to buy them?”  “Yes, my son wants them.  I thought the package was green, but I can’t find them.”  “Follow me.  But, they’re not good for you.  Are you sure you want them?”  I nodded and gave a strong “Yes.”  I needed it for my son.  “Here they are!”  she showed a pile of blue packages with “Rice Krispies Treat” in white.  She kept saying, “They are very good, but not good for you.”  I wasn’t sure if she was teasing me, but her advice seemed genuine.  “Thank you.  I won’t eat too many of them.”  With that, she smiled and left to help other customers.

Unexpectedly, I also have encountered several friends at the different supermarkets in my area.  Aside from tennis courts where I see my friends every Tuesday, the supermarkets have been the one other place where I get to see my friends.  With my real world is now pretty much limited to supermarkets and tennis courts, I feel like I’m living a version of The Truman Show.

More worrisome, though, is that no helpless white men have asked me a question since the stay-at-home order was issued.  I hope it’s not because my ethnicity scared them off as the origin of COVID was China.  I’m Japanese, but being Asian has been a bit tricky this year.  I wish for the return of white men who ask me about ginger.  For me, it’s a sign of normalcy. 

I ended up going grocery shopping two days in a row at the end of 2020. My kids told me as soon as I came back from the supermarket that they needed a few items for their year-end dishes.  On the second trip, I picked up Hersey’s darkest chocolate powder for my daughter. An elderly lady who was looking at the chocolate chips turned around suddenly, looked me in the eye and shouted through her mask, “You’ll have a great New Year!”  I was taken aback, not because she was a stranger, but because I somehow took it as a prophecy.  To cover my own silliness, I replied cheerfully “Thank you, you too!”  She made my day. 

I hope that 2021 brings you a lot of joy and laughter.  And you know, if you need a piece of advice on ginger, I may be able to help.