Good morning, Wishing everyone is having an enjoyable long weekend and a meaningful Memorial Day! GROWING UP JAPANESE IN ANAHEIM IN THE SIXTIES I was relating to some friends the other day my brief experience learning Japanese as a child. It was some 60 years ago. A neighbor family—the only Japanese-American family in our neighborhood—had a boy my age. We played in with other kids in the neighborhood—often in the street and sometimes dodging cars, but that’s another story! My friend’s mother approached my mother and asked whether I might be willing to learn Japanese with her son. He would only take lessons if a friend was taking lessons with him. For whatever reason (perhaps both being from minority ethnic groups in otherwise WASP-y Orange County), she chose me. Although I recall sitting with his mother learning phrases and having a notebook in which I practiced drawing characters, I recall nothing else from these lessons.
When I went to the WW II Museum in NOLA, the tour started on the European front. I thought, nobody could be worst than that. Then you go to the Pacific side, and you’re not sure at all.
When I went to the WW II Museum in NOLA, the tour started on the European front. I thought, nobody could be worst than that. Then you go to the Pacific side, and you’re not sure at all.