Rachel Martin

My father is 76. He has never left Japan. He is the quietest man I know. He has hugged exactly one person in his life (me, once) and one dog (practice). My friend from Texas invited him to stay with his parents in Texas for ten days. My father refused three times. My mother packed his suitcase. He agreed to send me one message a day. He signs every single one. Here they are. DAY 1 Arrived. The airport is the size of our prefecture. A man in a hat called me "partner." We have no partnership. I accepted anyway. That is all. — Father DAY 2 Breakfast. The mother asked how I want my eggs. In Japan, the egg decides. In Texas, the man decides. I said "over easy." I do not know what it means. It was correct. That is all. — Father DAY 2 (again) The refrigerator has a door that gives ice. You press, and ice falls. I pressed many times. I am not proud. That is all. — Father DAY 3 I have been assigned the seat called "shotgun." There is no shotgun. I checked. That is all. — Father DAY 4 At the gas station, a stranger asked where I am from. I said Japan. He said, "Well, welcome to Texas," and shook my hand for eleven seconds. I have never been welcomed by a gas station before. That is all. — Father DAY 5 Friday. The entire town went to a high school football game. Six thousand people. For children. There was a band. There were fireworks. A man beside me had painted his chest. He is a dentist. That is all. — Father DAY 6 Church. Afterward, a lunch where every woman brings one dish and stands near it, watching who takes some. I took some of everything, to insult no one. I have eaten four kinds of potato salad. Each woman told me hers was "the good one." They were all the good one. That is all. — Father DAY 7 The mother of the house calls me "sweetie." I am 76. I am the eldest son of a rice merchant. I am sweetie now. That is all. — Father DAY 8 The father of the house woke at 4 a.m. to cook meat. It took fourteen hours. He sat beside the fire in a chair all day, like a man guarding a sleeping child. I sat beside him. We did not speak. It was the best conversation I have had in years. That is all. — Father DAY 9 I have been hugged 43 times. I am counting. I hug back now. Correctly. Tell the dog. That is all. — Father DAY 10 The grandchildren asked me to throw a football. I threw it. It went sideways into a bush. They cheered anyway. In America, they cheer because you tried. I have been trying for 76 years. Nobody ever cheered. They cheered. That is all. — Father DAY 11 Home. The father of the house gave me his old hat at the airport. He said, "You're a Texan now." I am wearing it. Your mother has not stopped laughing for two hours. I am keeping the hat. That is all. — Father He wears the hat to the convenience store now. He says "Howdy" to the young man at the register. Last week, the young man said "Howdy" back. My father came home and sent me one more message. "It is spreading." That is all. — Father

There's a saying on American social media: "Be the American that Japanese people think you are." I'm Japanese. I've lived in Tokyo my whole life. So let me tell you what we actually say about you, when you're not in the room. "When someone falls down on the street, we pretend not to see. We're protecting their pride. Americans run straight at them. They don't care about the pride. They care about the knee." (Office worker, 38) "An American will stop four lanes of traffic for a family of ducks. And then everyone in the cars claps for the ducks." (Taxi driver, 61) "If you lend an American a pen, you will never see it again. If you need a kidney, they'll ask your blood type." (Nurse, 45) "At kids' soccer games, they cheer when the other team's kid scores. The other team's parents look confused. Then they cheer too." (Youth soccer coach, 52, lived one year in Ohio) "A man sneezed on a bus in Chicago. Eleven strangers said 'Bless you.' He said 'thank you' eleven times. Nobody on that bus thought this was strange." (University student, 21) "At an airport in Texas, I watched a soldier try to pay for his lunch. The cashier said someone already had. He asked who. She said, 'Somebody who didn't want you to know.'" (Retired teacher, 70) "American fathers cannot braid hair. But they will watch a video at midnight for an hour so their daughter's hair looks right on picture day." (Hair stylist, 33) "I ran the Chicago Marathon once. Strangers stood in the cold for hours holding signs for people they will never meet. At mile 20, a man I'd never seen read the name off my bib and screamed it like he'd raised me." (Runner, 48) "When Americans get lost, they ask a stranger. If the stranger is also lost, they become a team." (Tour guide, 39) "They ask the waitress her name. And then they remember it." (Restaurant owner, 66) And one more. From my father. He's 76. He doesn't say much about anything. This is the longest thing I have ever heard him say about another country. "Every time something terrible happens in America, I watch the news, and I look for one thing. The people running toward it. There are always so many." So, America. You don't have to become the Americans we think you are. We're not imagining you. We're remembering you.