My Regrettable Negligence

Of all the things I have done wrong, it seems there is one odd infraction, unintentionally committed, that haunts my memory the most.

It was during our eighteen days of spectacular fun in Japan. We were in Okinawa, Japan, to be more specific. On New Year's Day we attended a festival, which is a big thing there. As far as we could see, we were the only foreigners among the considerable crowd. Everything was colorful and our senses were saturated. As is their custom, the people were extremely courteous.

We wandered around and took in the many sights, sounds, and smells. The event was a lot of fun even for me. I don't normally enjoy big crowds or festivals. By our stature, clothes, and hair color, we stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. Oddly, many people wanted to get a selfie with the family of Americans. We stopped and posed with anyone we noticed doing the selfie alignment. I started to feel like a rock star. It was kind of fun, although I wouldn't want the pressure of being conspicuous all the time.

A few young people tried out their limited English on us. It was clearly textbook English. We reciprocated with equally amusing attempts at Japanese. At least we all got a good laugh out of the deal.

Eventually, we found the food alley and, naturally, there were too many choices to pick from. Nothing was in English, so we had to go by the pictures or the food offerings themselves. Somehow, when I pointed at the spicy chicken on a kabob-looking stick, the oblique angle of my indication was also construed as a selection of a drumstick meal. There were nine of us ordering in a foreign language and the confusion was abundant.

When the orders were meted out, I found myself in the awkward position of being handed two meals. I was perplexed. The Japanese man with the drumstick meal and the Japanese lady with the kabob chicken did not understand this American with a communication problem. After several minutes of muddled gestures and head nodding, I was able to establish which of the meals I had actually intended to purchase. The lady passed it to me and the man returned the drumstick to the grill.

Way later it occurred to me, that in that honor driven society, I had probably insulted the man. I am such a dolt at times, maybe most times. I should have purchased both meals. It would have only been an extra ten bucks or so. It certainly would not have been the first time I have overeaten. Besides that, my college-aged son and two sons-in-law were there, so I could have passed the extra meal off to one of them.

Unfortunately, without considering the cultural context, I simply tried to resolve the communication breakdown. As a result, I have this weird sense of unresolved guilt. I wish I could return and make an apology. But I have no way of even knowing who the young man was. That really bothers me. I have done so much worse to others, but have at least been able to return and apologize.

In the big scheme of things, it is fairly minor, but the unresolvable nature of it leaves me, well, unresolved. So I offer here my apology, from the far side of the earth, to the very polite young man at the food booth among the dozens of food booths. And I hope he did not take that personally.

To my readers, I have a piece of advice for you: If you have a reason to apologize to someone, do it quickly before the window of opportunity closes.

Soup with chopsticks! Where's the hidden camera?

Ahh, yes! That … was part of our Christmas in Japan.

The memory gate is opened and my emotions are suddenly flooded. They come like waves, one after the other, crashing into my mind and overwhelming my senses. We were in Japan: Okinawa, Japan, to be precise. And the trip was everything and more than we had ever expected. It was two years ago, and we were in Okinawa for eighteen days of adventure with the family!

As Hodge adventures rank, it was fairly low key, in that we did not intentionally plan anything that would put us at imminent risk of life or limb. As our travel experiences go, it was nothing short of amazing.

In our time there, we tried all manner of unfamiliar foods, eating at local establishments where English was not spoken and the menu was semi-mysterious. Then came the Udon Noodle Soup place.

Chopsticks for eating soup looked like a great way to prank Americans. Seriously, the operation looked impossible. But a quick look around the room revealed many locals happily eating their soup with chopsticks. It's no wonder they don't have a problem with their weight there.

My wife wisely ceded defeat and grabbed a spoon. I, on the other hand, stubbornly used the chopsticks. It was war from the beginning. Chopsticks make perfect soup stir sticks. I pretended to be getting the upper hand while chasing the little bits around the bowl. Microscopic quantities made it to my mouth. It smelled wonderful … maddeningly wonderful. I suddenly realized what the great krill-eating whales must feel like. Satisfaction seemed impossible.

My kids, between jokes about my skill level, offered that it would be okay to use a spoon. I must have looked pathetic. I don't normally growl at my food, but that seemed like an appropriate response. I think that part did not happen out loud, otherwise the normally very polite Japanese people may have responded with alarm.

With each frustrating technique attempt, the bowl crept closer to my face. Then at last I had a breakthrough. The victory was mine! With each sortie of those thin bamboo sticks I got flavor, texture, and volume! That soup tasted every bit as wonderful as it smelled. I mentally rode in the victory parade and with each successful scoop came another metaphorical shower of ticker tape confetti! That lasted about five bites.

Then, daughter Rochelle, who lived in Okinawa at the time, indicated a table near ours. She glibly pointed out that I was doing it just like one of the locals. My pleasure was checked only barely by the laughter of the kids. I was indeed using the same technique as the girl at that table. She was about four. I happily pointed out that she had a four year head start on me and I had already caught up!

Our Okinawa Christmas was indeed a wonderful experience. It flew by too fast as all pleasures tend to do, but each experience left us with great memories.

I pity people who have carbon copy Christmas experiences. We do have a few traditions that we repeat, but sharing the joy of different and sometimes surprising experiences really creates awesome memories for our family.

This year, who knows what surprise adventure may be lurking under the tree …