‘Beautiful Dream’ in Japan

Reading Chit Roces Santos’ “Bowing back to the Japanese” (Lifestyle, 4/22/18) brought back memories of my trip to Japan several years ago.

Prior to my retirement as a faculty member of an exclusive school for girls in Quezon City (which is now a university), I was asked to join another teacher in an exchange program for students of our sister-school in Sendai, Japan. Part of the program included being housed with a Japanese family.

I was assigned to stay for a month with a traditional Japanese family composed of a couple, three children, and grandparents.

The family was very friendly. Everyone smiled a lot, perhaps because only the two daughters (who were studying in our sister-school) spoke English.

The wife, a gracious woman named Yumi, carried a Japanese-English dictionary in her apron pocket. With gestures and frequent glances at the dictionary, the two of us managed to communicate.

Upon my arrival, I was greeted with a big streamer at the entrance to the living room, welcoming me to their home.

We took our Japanese meals at the customary low table with cushions to sit on. On my first morning, I was surprised to see a copy of the Japan Times, published in English. It was there every morning.

I told Yumi I was surprised they subscribe to the Japan Times. Her reply flabbergasted me: “Oh, no, Lita, we do not buy that. Ojisan (Grandfather) walks every morning to the train station to buy a copy for you.” (Yes, Chit, the Japanese are indeed a hospitable people.)

This kindness was demonstrated again the next week. It was the day before Mother’s Day, and for me, Mother’s Day celebrated in the Philippines with my five children had been something to look forward to.

Yumi brought me to a department store, and I was surprised that the Japanese celebrated Mother’s Day as well, with big streamers announcing the event, and gifts galore for mothers.

As I took in this westernized scene at the store, I could feel tears welling in my eyes as an overwhelming homesickness flooded my being. We were riding the escalator then, and my tears spilled over. I took out my handkerchief and surreptitiously wiped them away.

When we reached the landing, Yumi rushed to me, her face full of concern, hugged me, and exclaimed, “Oh, Lita, I’m so sorry. I know you miss your children. I’m so sorry.”

And before I knew it, she herself was crying.

The following day, Mother’s Day, the children presented Obasan (Grandmother), Yumi and me with a cake and wrapped mementos for the occasion. (Yes, Chit, the Japanese are truly wonderful people.)

One weekend, Yumi invited me to come along on a short trip so Grandmother could pick a certain edible plant from the forest. Grandmother was dressed for the occasion: long sleeves, a wide-brimmed hat, and boots. She carried a big basket.

We picked up her friend along the way. When we reached the forest, Yumi showed me the plant that I would be picking from the forest floor.

Half an hour later, I whispered to her, “Yumi, wouldn’t it be simpler to just go to the supermarket and buy these plants?”

And Yumi said, smiling, “That’s true, Lita, but it makes Grandmother happy.” (Chit, this Japanese lady is one good daughter-in-law, too.)

Like Filipinos, the Japanese love to sing in karaoke bars. The entire family once went to one, and after everybody had sung, Grandfather included, Yumi said, “Lita, why don’t we sing together? I know one English song…”

And so, Yumi and I happily sang her favorite, “Puff, the Magic Dragon.” As we sang, I was mentally thanking my children for teaching me that song when they were young.

After all these years, something still puzzles me: Why do the Japanese love that old classical song, “Beautiful Dreamer”? I once played that song on the piano in a school activity there, and at the opening bars alone, I heard an audible gasp  from the student audience, a muffled “Ohhhh,” and I could almost visualize their collective swooning.

“Beautiful Dreamer, wake unto me,/ Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee./ Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,/ lulled by the moonlight, have all passed away.”

This beautiful “dream” of a wonderful Japanese experience will never pass away.

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Lita Caluag Cruz, 76, retired after 30 years of teaching college in different schools. She is now occupied “with activities I like — writing and painting.”