Okay, I skipped a post. I’ve had some full days and needed to finish getting info together for a presentation on Japan and the triple disasters for a series of 6th grade classes. That went really well and I was able to cover a lot of ground in each 30-minute session – and no one was bored. The last couple days I’ve been thinking a lot about my Japanese heritage.
About every month or so
Daddy took us all to Japan Town,
Past Big John and Navy Pier
To a small piece of Chicago
Where another country lay.
We walked the concrete floors
Of the Star Market Grocery,
Looking at tubs, ice-packed
With slowly waving crabs,
Quiet clams and mussels.
We examined rows of dead fish
Sleeping in their crushed ice beds.
We looked at undecipherable markings
On packages of unidentifiable foods:
Dried black squiggles, grainy pink powder.
My mother was in her own little heaven,
My dad dreamed of meals to come.
But beyond the Field Museum goods,
My sister and I
Could only think of candy.
Child’s Lunch in Japan Town (tanka)
Oh, McDonalds,
How I long for your French fries
I don’t like sushi
It taste like fish and mushy.
Mom ignores my deep loud sighs
Linda Austin
“Cherry Blossoms in Twilight”
http://www.moonbridgebooks.com
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