After her father was done with his bath, he came into the room and sat down. Sachiko brought him a beer along with some snacks for the both of us, poured his beer for him, and then poured me a glass. Her father raised his glass to me and I did the same and we drank our beer. I felt kind of awkward sitting there on the tatami mat floor as I couldn’t speak Japanese and he couldn’t speak English so we just sat there for a few minutes in silence and watched the news on TV. Since I screwed up in the bath most of the food that was on the table put away.

Sachiko, meanwhile, busied herself in the kitchen and started bringing the food for our dinner into the room and placed it around the table. She also placed a portable, electric one burner stove on the table and plugged it in. On top of this she placed a large pot filled with all kinds of vegetables and turned on the heat. In front of me was a small, shallow dish that had an egg in it. I wondered what it was for and figured it would be cooked along with the dinner somehow.

Her father had finished his beer and raised his bottle towards me and said something I didn’t understand. By his gesture I gathered that he wanted me to drink up. I did, and he poured me another glass and poured one for himself. The Japanese do like their beer, I thought to myself. By now I was beginning to feel the effects of the beer as I had been drinking since my first bath. I picked at the rice crackers and continued to watch a kind of slapstick comedy that was now on the TV.

There were also some, what looked like peas in the pod in a bowl on the table. The father would grab one and squeeze the “peas” into his mouth and place the empty pod into another bowl. Not wanting to look unsociable I also tried one. The pod was a little wet and there was salt on it. I squeezed the “peas” into my mouth and boy did they taste good. I had another and another and almost couldn’t stop myself from eating them.

After a while the pot started to boil and the heat was turned down a little. Sachiko then brought in a large plate of the paper thin slices of beef we had bought that afternoon and knelt next to me at the table. With chopsticks, she began placing pieces of the meat into the pot of boiling vegetables. Her mother came in and knelt at the table also. I thought it odd that the women were kind of kneeling and the two men were sitting cross legged. Sachiko explained that we were going to eat Sukiyaki, boiled vegetables and meat. I asked about the “peas” and mentioned how good they tasted. Sachiko said that they were soy beans, also known as edamame. I had never tasted soy beans before, but they sure were good.

I asked about her brother and sister and if they were going to eat with us. Sachiko said that her brother would be going out with his friends and that her sister would be home later.

Everyone then broke their egg into the shallow bowl and began beating it with the chopsticks. I followed suit and wondered what we were going to do with the egg so I asked Sachiko. She explained that the meat and vegetables were to be taken from the pot, dipped in the raw egg, and eaten. I found this rather repulsive as I had never eaten a raw egg before.

Everyone then started dipping their chopsticks into the pot and placed a few pieces of vegetables and meat into the bowl with the raw egg and began eating. I did the same, but was awkward with the chopsticks, so Sachiko got some for me. I looked in the bowl and saw the vegetables and meat in the raw egg and wondered what it would taste like. I took the piece of meat first and, after letting as much of the raw egg drip off the meat as possible, placed it in my mouth. Hey, this is not that bad after all. I hardly tasted the egg, but the meat was delicious. I can’t ever recall eating meat that was boiled like this before. I then tried the vegetables and they were pretty good too. I then followed suit with the family and we all ate while watching the comedy on TV. What surprised me was, that evening, I mastered the use of chopsticks. It was a "no brainer" after a while.

Sachiko explained that the raw egg is supposed to cool off the hot meat and vegetables before eating while adding a little flavor to the already flavorful food. There were also some vegetables and large mushrooms that I had never tasted before, but they were all delicious. And so was the beer that seemed to never end.

I couldn’t quite grasp the concept of the TV show we were watching, but everyone was laughing. It seemed that mostly everyone was yelling at each other and then one person would slap the other in the head and the audience would roar with laughter. A few skits were shown that showed a Samurai type scene, men dressed as women, a scene in a house, etc. It seemed to be live and performed on a stage in some large hall. One thing I did notice was that there were no commercials.

As soon as I had finished a glass of beer, it was filled again. Sometimes, her father would hold up a bottle towards me and gesture me to drink while my glass was still half full. I drank up and soon was beginning to get really drunk. I noticed that, after a while, her fathers face was really pink. The women drank too, but not as much as her father and I, but they seemed to do most of the pouring. There was a little small talk, but mostly we all sat in silence, while eating, drinking and watching TV.

Sachiko explained that the TV show we were watching was the most popular comedy show in Japan and was on every Saturday night. I still couldn’t get it, but everyone else seemed to enjoy it. I asked about the commercials and she said that this was NHK, the public television station, and that there weren’t any commercials

All in all dinner lasted about an hour and a half and everyone was full. I continued eating the soy beans which I found very delicious and addicting. The mother seemed happy that I enjoyed them and made another large bowl after the table was cleared.

After the comedy show was over, the father switched the station to a police drama type of show. This I found fairly interesting and easy to follow, even though I didn’t understand the language. Sachiko and her mother washed the dishes in the kitchen.

After we had finished our fourth beer or so, the father said something to me and I understood the word whiskey. He yelled something into the kitchen and soon a small tray with two glasses, a bucket of ice, and a pitcher of water was brought in along with a bottle of whiskey. The two glasses were placed on the table and the father filled them with ice.

“Whiskey wada,” he said. “You like?”

I had never had whiskey and water before, but feeling rather good said “yes,” and he poured a little whiskey into the glasses from a small, dark, round bottle with a yellow label on it. The label said Suntory. He then filled the remainder of the glass with water.

"Dis izu mizu wari," he said pointing at the glass. "Whisky Wada."

His accent was funny in English, but I knew what he meant. Now I was really getting drunk and my shyness and inhibitions started to fade into the background. The father and I started speaking with Sachiko being the interpreter. I don’t remember much of what was said, but I do remember us laughing a lot. I also don’t know how it happened, but I vaguely remember myself standing up in that room and singing like an idiot while the parents and Sachiko laughed. I was told later the next day that I put on a one man comedy show for them.

The next thing I remember is waking up in the morning, groggy, still a little drunk, but with no headache. I put on the sweats and stumbled into the warm kitchen. The parents and Sachiko were already in there and were eating breakfast. Her younger brother and older sister were in the parent’s room watching TV. Everyone looked my way and said “Ohayo”, good morning. I said “ohayo” back and took a seat at the table. Coffee was made for me.

I was asked if I wanted something to eat and I said that I would like to have some of that delicious toast I had yesterday. The toast was made and a small bowl of soup was put in front of me that had some small clams in the shell in it. This I found very tasty and ate a couple of bowls of it. I had never eaten clams before.

Her father talked, through Sachiko, about the previous evening and how much fun he had had. I thought I must’ve made a real fool of myself with my singing and antics, but no one seemed to mind.

It was only later on, as I came to learn more and more about the Japanese culture, that drinking helps the Japanese relax and it’s perfectly okay to make a fool out of oneself and let your hair down, so to speak, when inebriated.

I mentioned to Sachiko that I was surprised I didn’t have a headache with the amount of alcohol I drank the previous evening. She said that she gave me an aspirin before I went to bed and passed out. I didn’t even remember it. She said an aspirin before bed, after drinking alcohol, will prevent a headache. I’ll have to remember that, I thought to myself.

Anyway, we finished our breakfast and I washed and brushed my teeth at the sink and we all ended up in the family room sitting on the floor watching TV for the remainder of the morning. They drinking their tea and I my coffee. We also ate some tangerines that the mother placed in a small wicker bowl on the table. After a while, the older sister got dressed and left and the brother went to his room. The mother washed dishes and Sachiko did the wash and hung out the bedding.

What was different this morning was that there was no wooden table. Instead there was a kotatsu. I particularly enjoyed this. With the sun shining into the room, the kerosene heater lit with the kettle of water hissing on top, and my feet warmed by the kotatsu, it was a real cozy atmosphere and, for some unknown reason, I felt like I belonged there.

The father laid on the floor while reading the paper and I, also, “read” the paper, or rather looked at the pictures and strange writing. I was more interested in the advertisements inserted in the paper. There’s nothing you can’t get in this country, and the prices are pretty decent, I remember thinking to myself. I was most interested in the electronics ads than anything else.

At around 1pm, it was time for lunch. Sachiko mentioned that they were going to order lunch and asked what I would like. I was given a few options and selected the pork on rice, also known as katsudon. The mother made a phone call and after about 30 minutes lunch was delivered by a man on a scooter.

I was little surprised that lunch was delivered in real glass bowls. I was half expecting paper boxes much like a Chinese restaurant in the states. The plates were placed around the table and everyone ate while watching TV. I found the katsodon extremely tasty and enjoyed it very much.

After lunch, the plates were gathered up and placed outside. Sachiko said that the store would come by later in the day to pick them up. At about 3 pm I mentioned that I had to be getting back to the base as I had to get up early the next morning. I asked about how to get home. Sachiko mentioned something to her father and the father yelled something to the brother. Sachiko then said that her brother would drive me back to the base.

We then went into Sachiko’s room where I changed clothes. What surprised me was that my underclothes and socks were washed. Sachiko said that she had washed them that morning. I felt kind of embarrassed about this, but didn’t say anything.

When it was time to leave, I said “domo arrigato,” thank you, to the parents (one of the few words I knew in Japanese) and bowed a little as I had seen the Japanese do to each other. The parents said they were glad to meet me and hoped that I would visit again. I secretly hoped that I would also.

The three of us left the house and walked a little to the parking area where the brother’s car was parked. He owned a brand new, dark green, 1973 Nissan Skyline; one of the coolest looking sports cars in Japan at that time. Cool, I said to myself. Sachiko got in the back and I rode in the front.

As we drove the narrow streets back to the base, Sachiko and I talked a little. I asked if I could see her again and she said, “Sure.” She wrote her phone number down on a piece of paper and I tucked it away carefully in my wallet.

During the drive home her brother hardly said a word except to Sachiko to ask where the base was. I knew the city name and train station name and the adjoining city, but that was it. I had no idea how to get home by car. He managed to find it anyway. He never spoke directly to me and I still had the feeling that he didn’t much like me, even though we were about a year and a half apart in age. Maybe he didn’t like Americans dating his sister, but I thought that that couldn’t be it as he already had two sisters married to Americans. Maybe two were enough for him. Oh well.

The drive from her house to the base, about 30 kilometers (18 miles), took almost an hour. The traffic on route 16 this Sunday afternoon was horrendous. It was mostly stop and go all the way. I couldn’t get over that most of the backup on this two lane “highway” was mostly due to traffic signals and the massive number of cars. I also noticed that a majority of the cars were white and contained families or couples. I also remember noticing that when there was a family in the car, the wife was always in the back.

When we weren’t talking, I mostly stared out the window at the small shops, houses, signs, and took everything in while thinking about the most intriguing weekend I had ever experienced. The sun began to set and Sachiko pointed out Mt. Fuji to the left. You could clearly make out the top third of the snow covered mountain standing tall just over the Tanzawa Mountains to the west. What a majestic site.

Once at the base, I signed them in and we drove the short distance to my living quarters. There I said “domo arrigato” to her brother. He nodded his head, said something I didn’t understand, and I exited the car. I moved the seat forward so Sachiko could get out. When she was outside the car, I reached down, clasped both her hands in mine and, looking into her eyes, squeezed them and said, “Thanks for a very interesting weekend. I really enjoyed it.”

She looked back at me, squeezed my hands in return, and said “You’re welcome. I enjoy too.” I kissed her on her cheek, said I would call her, and held the door open as she got into the front seat. She looked up at me, smiled, and said "mata neh," see you again. I closed the door and waved as they made a u-turn and headed back down the street to the gate.

I did call Sachiko the next day, and the day after, and the day after that. I saw her the following weekend, spent it at her house again, and continued seeing her as often as I could. I spent many a weekend at her house and eventually started working with the father and brother on Saturdays doing plumbing work with them.

We eventually fell in love and were married in civil ceremonies at the American Embassy and the city hall in late spring of 1975 with the blessings of her parents. I’d like to say that we lived happily ever after, but such was not the case after I decided to get out of the military and enter a university in Tokyo and that I did not want any children until I at least graduated from college. That in itself is a whole different story.

However, even after our amicable divorce, in 1978, we remained good friends up until the time we both met others and went our separate ways. We almost got back together in 1980, but fate would not allow it as it probably wasn’t meant to be. She did upgrade herself though, and ended up marrying a US Naval Officer.

In my opinion, I feel she was one of the last generation of Japanese women that married US servicemen for a “better life” outside of Japan. Not that I didn’t think she didn’t love me or anything. She did. But that will have to be explained in another story.

However, I did meet and made quite a few friends through her sister and the people she worked with at the hotel in Yokohama as we used to hang out and travel together often; one of which is still my closest and dearest friend today. He was my best man when I got married again in 1988.

Even today, some 30 years later, I still think of Sachiko often. I wonder what she is doing and smile when I remember that weekend totally immersed in the Japanese culture for the first time when I had been in Japan for only one month.

I smile at how awkward I was, the blunder of the bath, my shock at her sister sleeping in the room, and the little discoveries I made and the things I learned. The food I tasted, the coldness of the house, the kindness of her parents, and my first introduction into all things Japanese. And I sincerely hope she eventually found happiness, even though it wasn’t with me, as she and her family were really nice people and treated me great throughout the three years we spent together.

Even if our relationship wasn’t meant to be, maybe that weekend was, as I came to truly love Japan and the culture, and ended up staying in Japan for more than16 years after that.

That weekend totally change my life and pointed me in a whole new direction that, I wonder today, where I would've ended up had I not met Sachiko. There is a saying that, “everything happens for a reason,” and “there are NO coincidences in life.” And I am sure, for reasons I cannot explain here, that when I look back over it, “it was supposed to happen.”

To Sachiko and her family, I thank you.