Keiko hastily covered her mouth as she felt a yawn coming on. She’d been up far too late the night before, but it was all worth it. Her (late) holiday party for her new younger friends had been a success and she’d enjoyed getting this particular group together.

She’d scrubbed the wooden counter of her small restaurant until it gleamed. None of this fake stuff for her. Her late husband had loved the glow and warmth that wood provided. Her tables were made of wood as well and though some of them were a little rickety, she was not inclined to replace them. She’d put small vases of camellia and mini pine branches on each one for the party and even hung a strand of festive lights.

Correction! Of course she herself had not stood on one of the rickety chairs to hang the lights. Her cook Minoru had done that for her. Nobody wanted to see Keiko up on a chair or a ladder. And the flowers had been provided by his fiancée Maria. Keiko had to admit that without their help she could not have made Den as festive as it had turned out to be. She was discovering that one of the secrets to aging well was to have young friends. Keiko stowed that thought away to ponder when she had a cup of coffee in front of her.

She was pleased that there had been a well-balanced mix of both Japanese and foreigners at the party. Indeed, just the group of foreigners itself had been pretty diverse. Japanese tended to lump all Westerners together, but she had found that when you got to know them there was a world of difference depending on their nationalities and home culture. What a discovery she’d made… that people were really just people, after all. It paid to have a plethora of friends. And yes, though some of them had started out simply as customers, now she called them friends. And some were now neighbors.

Of course it was much easier for Keiko to make foreign friends than for most Japanese her age. As a child, Keiko’s father had worked for a bank with a New York City branch and he’d spent five years working there. Keiko and her mother had enjoyed living in Fort Lee, New Jersey where there was a huge Japanese ex-pat community and even a complete Japanese supermarket. Many of the ex-pat families enrolled their children in one of the Japanese day schools that served the community. But Keiko had attended public school and after the first few years, she was reasonably proficient in English. She worked hard as an adult to maintain her skills and that had paid off for her.

Peter and Katrina, who now lived just down the block on the third floor of Tanaka’s Bookstore, were from Germany. Katrina had come to the party early to use the large oven at Den to bake some German Christmas cookies. Peter had walked into the party slightly late with their new baby, Sakura in a front carrier. Keiko had done a double take at that and had a private laugh imagining her late husband ever carrying their son like that. Impossible! The men her age had a reputation for very long work hours and were not known to involve themselves in domestic issues. It was all on the mother back then. Keiko’s late husband had been slightly unusual, though, since he liked to clean and would often vacuum their apartment without even being asked. They had raised their son in the apartment which was above the shop and though her husband could easily go back and forth between home and work, he’d never even so much as changed a diaper. Things were different now, she knew. Better, she thought. She knew she would enjoy watching Peter and Katrina raise little Sakura. She had seemed snug and happy in her carrier.

Tilly, who was from England and was a young art professor, had surprised all of them by letting them know that she’d be returning home next month. Keiko was saddened to hear this. Tilly was quite a character and Keiko would miss seeing her around town in her green clothes. Tilly had told her that she had long ago decided that she’d stick to one color when it came to clothing because it was “easier” to shop that way. She did also wear black and white, but it was always a green skirt, shirt, dress, trousers etc. Kyoto did seem to attract odd types like this. Keiko always looked forward to Tilly’s visits to Den and she would miss running into her when she was in the neighborhood. Would she ever return to Japan? Tilly had assured her that she most certainly would, so that was something. After all, with foreigners, even the ones who weren’t tourists, would eventually return home.

Or they’d end up staying! Maria, a young half-Japanese woman who’d come to Kyoto to learn traditional gardening techniques, was engaged to her cook, Minoru. They had plans to marry in the spring or summer so she would become a permanent resident of Kyoto. That was a happy thought! Maria was often in and out of Den and she had quickly picked up on how Keiko managed the small restaurant. She’d pitch in as a waitress if needed. Perhaps someday she and Minoru would take over the restaurant. Keiko’s own son was what they called a techie and he was happier in Tokyo. In fact he rarely even came home to visit these days. She was sad that he hadn’t even come home for the traditional New Year’s celebration. He’d chosen to travel overseas instead. He had his life and as long as he was happy and healthy, Keiko was not the type to be intruding and advising.

Andy and Gary had arrived at the party together. They both trained at a karate dojo and Andy now also lived on Teramachi Street in a small apartment above the antique shop where he was employed part time. That was a happy ending from a difficult start. Andy, a Canadian sansei (third generation), had been bullied at the karate dojo he attended by the antique shopkeeper’s son and had lashed out and stolen a couple of items from the shop. It was an unusual theft and it had even made the newspapers. Andy’s parents had flown over from Canada in great dismay. It turned out that they’d sent Andy to Japan in hopes that he’d turn over a new leaf and “find himself.” Andy’s parents were hard workers and it was Andy’s grandparents who had taken care of him as a child. They were first generation immigrants to Canada and they never had become really proficient in English or French. They had always spoken Japanese with their grandson and Andy was comfortable with the language despite his own parents having forgotten the Japanese they once knew as they ensconced themselves in the English-speaking work world. Andy’s adjustment issues weren’t due to language issues, but rather a lack of understanding of everyday Japanese life. A dojo could be a rough and hierarchical place and Andy had been mercilessly bullied. Frustrated, he lashed out at the main culprit by stealing from his family’s antique shop. But what an unexpected turn that had taken.

The owner had surprised everyone by refusing to press charges. He knew his own son had been leading the bullying and he felt very distressed about that. After speaking with Andy’s parents (with Keiko interpreting) Mr. Yagi had suggested that Andy come work in the shop with him. And to everyone’s surprise, Andy had proved himself to be very business savvy and was cultivating a genuine interest in Japanese antiques. In fact, he’d spent quite a bit of time conversing with Tilly and picking her brain about art. It was a shame that Tilly was leaving, but she’d promised Andy that she’d make him a list of places to visit to learn more about Japanese art. Keiko was curious to see what she’d include on her list.

Gary, who was from Nebraska, looked a little out of place at the gathering. Though he knew everyone there, he seemed restless and unfocused. Was he getting enough sleep? She knew that he was still working part time at a Chinese restaurant and delivering orders. He couldn’t be making much money doing that, but it was his way of trying to integrate more into the local community. The head of the dojo wanted the foreigners who trained there to focus on more than karate. It was an unusual stance that he’d taken and Keiko wondered how it would all work out.

Let’s see. Had she forgotten anyone?

She had! A new shop had opened near city hall at the south end of their street, and Keiko had naturally been curious to see what kind of a shop it was. When she opened the door to peer in and perhaps venture inside, she got a warm welcome from the proprietress of the shop. It turned out that she knew her. Etsuko was an old classmate of hers from junior college. It would be hard to categorize exactly what the shop sold, but it was a mixture of handicrafts and some food items. You might call it a zakka shop.

In Japanese zakka means “miscellaneous items” and though one might think of a junk shop with such a translation, that was not the case at all. Zakka shops were very trendy and had cutely designed ornaments, daily goods, and what Keiko knew her Jewish friends called tchotchkes. It really all depended on what the owner chose to stock. Etsuko herself still hadn’t really developed a theme for her shop, though Keiko knew she leaned towards items made here in Kyoto. She enjoyed dropping in occasionally to see what new items might have appeared.

Etsuko, unlike Keiko, was very diligent about staying connected with their old classmates and was full of information about how and what each woman was doing. Etsuko often dropped in to Den in the morning before she opened her own shop. Keiko opened at 9:00 am these days and Etsuko opened at 10:00 or 10:30 depending on her own inclination that day. It wasn’t unusual for shops on Teramachi to set their own hours as they liked. After all, they weren’t chain shops or prominent on social media, so they could operate with more leeway and freedom. Keiko almost pitied the shops and restaurants that were surging on social media and drew more tourists. She liked being able to operate at her own pace and the freedom that gave. Etsuko felt the same way. They had both agreed that the older they got, the more they treasured a leisurely morning. And they treasured the people they’d known in their youth.

Foreigners new to Japan might be surprised to learn how popular class reunions for all grades and schools were — and how they all stayed in touch. It had been this way for as long as Keiko could remember. It wasn’t at all unusual to get a card in the mail announcing a reunion dinner for a sixth grade class. She knew that this sort of thing was rare in other countries. Sometimes it was a burden to have to attend so many reunions. But there was nothing like the comfort of childhood friends. They understood you and you could be yourself around them. Etsuko was gently nudging Keiko to be more active in their college group and had even proposed that Den be used for their end-of-the-year party. Keiko had squashed that idea immediately. She knew the women expected a sumptuous feast for the end-of-the year parties and though Minoru looked intrigued at
the idea of cooking some special dishes, she felt hesitant to host it. Things were fine just the way that they were and getting into the bōnenkai business was not for her.

Recently, Maria had asked her some questions about these end of the year parties. “Why is it called bōnenkai, Keiko?”

Keiko had been taken aback. She thought about it, voicing her thoughts out loud.

“Well, Bō is the character meaning forget. Nen is year and Kai is meeting, right? So it is a forget-the-year party!”

She felt triumphant in her answer which explained it correctly and clearly. She added that it was a celebration to leave the old year behind. And there was a counterpart to it which would happen in January that was literally the “New Year Party.” Yes, the Japanese did like their celebrations! It all got a little bit much at this time of year.

But, Maria was not satisfied with Keiko’s explanation. She had something else on her mind.

“What if you don’t want to forget the year, though?”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“I got engaged this year. I’d never want to forget it.”

Maria was really stuck on the literal meaning. And both of their gazes turned to Maria’s pretty engagement ring sparkling in the bright winter sunlight that came through the front window.

Keiko smiled.

“I do see what you mean, Maria. For you, perhaps, we should have a ‘kakunenkai’
or a ‘remember the year’ party, then.”

They both smiled. Language never failed to delight them.

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