Japanese Traditions and My Mother's Cooking

My mother loved bright colored clothes, and embraced Japanese traditions whenever possible. I am tasked with making the arrangements decisions for the graveside funeral service, as I will be paying for them. The caregiver wanted a live entertainer, and I immediately said “no”…it will be a graveside service with what I expect will be a modest number of attendees – particularly given the fact my mother suffered from Alzheimer’s the past three years, and has been living in either a nursing home or senior-assisted living since 2000. Unfortunately she has lost touch with most of her Japanese friends, and many have passed on. It has been challenging searching for them, given that the last reliable information is 21 years old, and is just a postal address – the registry at Jimmy’s funeral.
The music will probably be a boom box; it will suffice. The same goes for the floral arrangements – just as it was with Jimmy – who specifically requested in his will “no flowers, whatever you do, no flowers”. I am guessing this kind of philosophy is instilled in many Japanese, part of their culture – it relates to different feelings with respect to traditions and to Buddha/Buddhism – whose guidance was to keep religious ceremonies simple. Think about it a little – my mother’s ritual to honor her father’s passing – was that in a church? No. The “institution” of the physical church is not as integral to worship with Buddhists; you don’t need to go visit one to pray, for instance – the custom is actually to do this in your home. This goes against the recruitment and business model of many modern Christian churches, and would have televangelists like Billy Graham saying, it’s okay if you worship from your home – just remember to send me your money (sigh).
When I was younger, she taught me Japanese along with English. I was bi-lingual when I was six years old, but I lost touch with the language when my stepfather Sam “put his foot down,” telling my mother no more Japanese in the house. It was a response to poorer grades I was receiving in English in first and second grades. There was one place where Japanese was still allowed – that was at the dinner table. It was understood that I would always say “Gochiso sama deshita” to thank her for a very nice/delicious dinner; Gochiso sama would do the trick for lunch or breakfast. Incidentally, while my grades in English did improve, it is kind of sad that I don’t know how to speak Japanese any more – I can still understand the basics, if spoken to.
My mother also made sure I remembered where I came from (my heritage), by decorating what we referred to as a Japanese room. Several doll cases, some exotic tapestries, a black dresser of sorts that could store valuables, and a sunken-down table just like the Japanese rooms at Miyako’s, the restaurant in San Diego where she worked when I was young. My stepfather Sam made that for her, formica red topped, with black legs that could be rotated outward to raise the table to American dining height, if needed.
My mother was also a great cook, perhaps something she picked up over the years from working as a waitress as long as she did…she taught me a few tricks as well – like substituting or using rice sake wine instead of oil when frying rice – she made a great Japanese-style Mexican fried rice. I will always be indebted to her for feeding me a lot of healthier dishes - lots of fish, soy products, vegetables, and rice; not so much red meat. Her favorite food as she grew older was sushi. I remember as a child that a “quickie” dish for me was never peanut butter and jelly or macaroni and cheese – it was steamed white rice with raw egg and soy sauce.