Letter from Boston

Thoughts On a Dream

By MASAKO YAMADA

When I went home for vacation this winter, both of my parents told me something that completely floored me. I couldn't believe my ears when they said it, because the topic came out of nowhere, and it was not the typical thing I expect to hear from them.

We were eating "osechi" and discussing where we were all heading in our lives. The younger two of my brothers are returning to Japan for college, and they'll probably end up settling there. My oldest brother and I are probably going to remain in the States. We talked about how, in spite of having the same parents and similar schooling, we have such different personalities and such different paths, both in front of and behind us.

My father then said, "With four kids, I guess at least one of you will have an international marriage." For some reason I felt I was being directly addressed. I replied, "Well then, I guess it'll be me." My mother chimed in, "Yes, as long as you get along, it doesn't matter where he's from. And if you don't want to get married, that's OK too." Even though it sounded like we were all joking around, I was stunned.

I'd always assumed that my parents required ― or at least hoped ― that I'd marry a Japanese man. They took me out of American school when I was in the fifth grade in order for me to attend a Mombusho-run Japanese school in New York. I went to another Japanese school, Keio New York high school, and they seemed happy in the assurance that I'd be attending Keio University. I thought this all meant that in spite of having grown up in the States (something that was beyond my control), I was supposed to think of America as only a temporary home. I grew up thinking that my "real" home was in Japan, and I was always preparing myself for an eventual "return."

But as they say, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink." I refused to do "juken-benkyo" at my first school, even though most of the students went to "juku" after school so they could apply to the famous high schools in Japan. In high school I decided to reject Keio and attend Wellesley, even though I knew I was sacrificing one of the biggest benefits of attending that high school. By the time I was in college, I was making all the decisions regarding my studies and career by myself. I had great freedom and took advantage of it.

I had always thought, however, that I was still bound to my parents when it came to "personal issues." Marriage, after all, involves parents, children, several layers of other relatives, gossipy neighbors, generations of tradition.... It's true that Japanese culture is indelibly ingrained in me, and it's true that it'll probably be easier for everybody if I marry a nice Japanese man, but it's also true that I've had little personal luck with Japanese guys in the past. In spite of all efforts, I've become very Americanized. Therefore, it made me happy to hear those liberal ― and liberating ― words from my parents.

I've been thinking about this even after coming back to Boston. It even popped up in a vivid dream of mine a couple of nights ago, which is why I decided to write about it here.

In the dream I went home to visit my family, only to discover that my mother had arranged a marriage for me. I was to be married to a Japanese man a week from that date. Confused, I said "OK." After I was legally married, though, I realized that I didn't love the man. In fact, I had been in love for years with another man who loved me too. I told my mother, "You told me I could get married to whoever I wanted!" She replied, "But, you know...." I then yelled at her, "Well, I guess I'll either get divorced, or have a blatant affair! OK!?"

I don't remember what happened after that.

Shukan ST: Jan. 31, 1997

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