4th of July

I know this is a little late, but I thought I would still share:

The Fourth of July has never been my favorite holiday. It always hits me off guard: “Oh yeah! Tomorrow’s the Fourth of July. Where are we going to watch fireworks?” It’s definitely one of the more fun holidays, but nothing I have ever looked forward to with wild anticipation, like say, Christmas or Halloween. This year, however, I took notice of the Fourth not because of some great reminder, but because of the complete void of American patriotism/commercialism surrounding me. You know that phenomenon when you don’t really appreciate something until it goes away? That’s how I felt with the Fourth of July this year. There were no fliers in the mail advertising picnic supplies, no juicy watermelon waiting to be eaten in the fridge, and no American flags and other such paraphernalia flying from neighborhood porches. This void of American patriotism caused a great pang in my heart as I imagined my friends and family writing their names in the night with sparklers, fingers still sticky from earlier eaten watermelon wedges. Just when I thought all hope was lost, we got invited to the coolest 4th of July party ever, well at least ever in Tokyo.

Jonathan and I received an official invitation to attend the Fourth of July party at the residence of the American Ambassador to Japan. Ambassadors are official representatives of the President in foreign lands so it is no surprise that 1. The Ambassador to Japan is an old friend of George W. Bush from Texas (he too has maintained his Texas drawl) and 2. The Ambassador lives in a huge, posh, and completely fabulous house in the very center of Tokyo. (It is the only place I have seen in Tokyo that has a yard, let alone grass.) Jonathan was privy to the guest list and assured me that generals, ambassadors, and politicians from around the world would be milling around the party just waiting for us to strike up a conversation. I wish I had the same confidence that Jonathan has when approaching these highly successful people. Jonathan just walks up to this or that highly ranked official and introduces himself like he is doing him/her a favor. Don’t get me wrong, he’s very gracious and very likeable, but he is also extraordinarily confident in these situations, which is very sexy to his wide-eyed small town wife.

For the occasion, I bought my very first white dress shirt. Jonathan, the wonderful husband that he is, ironed it perfectly crisp for me while I was in the shower. Jonathan, like always, looked very classy in his well-fitted suit and blazing red power tie. We arrived in style (Taxi) to the heavily guarded iron gates of the Ambassador’s residence. While everyone else had to wait in line to be screened for weapons and official invitations, one of Jonathan’s co-workers saw him and had us waved through the gate. Inside, live music was being played by a Marine band. It was raining, like it is everyday in Tokyo, but big tents were set up keeping people dry and comfortable. Food was everywhere. You could eat anything from a gourmet hotdog to tender roast beef, from delicious wild rice pilaf to classic potato salad. It was all there. Dominos, Cold Stone, Krispie Kreme, and many other famous American vendors were set up throwing their products out to the greedy guests starving for a taste of America. And of course, the liquor abounded. I felt completely at home by the time the band played “Born in the USA.”

The highlight of the party for me was when a choir of mentally handicapped children sang for the Ambassador in his living room. I was lucky enough to get an up close view and the whole experience seemed really familiar to me somehow. It would have described it as de ja vu, until all of a sudden I realized that these kids, well, young adults, were the artists of the exhibit I saw when I first came to Tokyo (see “Roppongi Hills: The Beverly Hills of Tokyo” from June). Their chorister was the women who had founded their school (a school for children with mental health problems) so many years ago. When the choir had finished, I went up to this amazing woman and told her how touched I had been by the art exhibit and what an inspiration she was. She just simply stated, “I have raised all those children with my own hands.” I hope that I can find the same passion for helping others that she has found.

I stuffed myself silly at the party. I talked to so many people, that by the end of the day I was unphased by meeting anyone who approached. Jonathan was almost hoarse by the end. I wish I had more pictures to share, but it seemed somehow inappropriate to ask to take a picture with someone trying to enjoy him/herself at our American party.

One of the funniest moments of the party was when we were talking with a General from Australia who was surprised that hotdogs were being served at such a classy event. He shrugged and said in his thick Australian accent, “But then again, it’s what you Americans eat, right?” Before he took a bite of his gourmet hotdog, Jonathan and I laughed and assured the hungry general that the “real” food was waiting inside.

It was a great time. Jonathan was in his element--maybe, at times, a little too comfortable. At home, I was happy to take off my heels. We spent the rest of the evening happily letting our stomachs settle.

General Larsen and his wife. Their oldest son Scott was Jonathan's trainer on his mission.

View of the Ambassador's fountain.
A parlor area in the Ambassador's residence.
This is some of the really good stuff.
Jonathan and I with Ambassador and Mrs. Scheiffer

View from the Patio.

This table was filled with cookies of every shape, size, and flavor.

You can see Jonathan's boss Ray in the bottom right hand corner, talking with an Air Force general. You can also check out the band playing up front.

Jonathan and Mr. Shikata, the Prime Minister's international press secretary. Jonathan and he are good friends.

A view of a reading room in the Ambassador's mansion. Jonathan and Jacob, a fellow intern and alum of the same undergrad.

Me and a handsome Marine sergeant that everyone calls "Wills."

Here I am with the founder of the Japanese school for children with mental health problems.
Here the the children singing "Amazing Grace."