As many of you know, I was born
in Japan. We live off-base for a while, but when I was not quite a year old we
moved into a tower apartment on Yokota AFB. We lived on the sixth floor. I have
no real recollection of this, but my mom likes to tell a story about me when we
lived in the tower when I was not quite two.
Apparently I was not a shy
toddler. Any time we ascended or descended in the elevator, no matter how many
floors we traveled between stops, I would greet the other riders. However, I differentiated
depending on who rode with us. Any American that rode with us got a “hi, there”
or a hearty “hello.” However, if a person of Japanese descent got on the lift,
I would bow deeply and say “konnichiwa.”
As part of a writing assignment I am doing along with my 9th graders, I asked my mom to share a story that I had no recollection of. This was it. In the past I've pushed memory and mining for them. Sometimes there is nothing you can do but ask for help.
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