I have had some work trips lately. Each time I have tried to hit the local Hard Off. It has been very fruitful, if a little bit expensive. My vinyl collection is up to around 225 albums. (Some are not listed in the Rate Your Music listing because they were simply too hard to search in the database; the artists had a billion albums, or the title was too common to be searchable, or both. Classical especially.) I have a tremendous collection going, in my opinion.

Below are the records hauled. You will see that I have been into City Pop pretty heavily lately. And let me tell you why: It is the musical record of a people who were on top of the world. The Bubble Era of Japan is well known. The music that it produced is of course far broader in style than the already-vague genre of City Pop, but in any case, the sound of people enjoying the absolute hell out of life hits pleasantly for me in the current era. The album that I have listened to most this summer:

I love the sound of this. Yes, it starts out heavy on disco, so that will be a big plus for me. The song “Maui” haunts me with its calm and summer peace. But also if you look at the personnel, it is clear that they hired the yacht rock people to devastatingly delicious effect: Nathan East, Don Grusin, Ernie Watts, Jerry Hey, Paulinho Da Costa, on and on. Just a murderer’s row of elite musicians. It seems that the album was recorded in LA, though I first thought they flew all those people over to Japan.

Legendary cover, and the photos inside the gatefold continue that excellence. The brothers are depicted engaging in, and, yes, winning, many sports. It is a lot of fun.

This is all over the place stylistically and Yumi shows her talent in a lot of ways. The song “Downtown Boy” caught my fancy for about a month this summer. I love it. I read that she wrote it as a reply, from the girl’s perspective, to Billy Joel’s “Uptown Girl.”

Like most of the City Pop albums in this blog post, it is full of great audio atmosphere, and the album art also gives such a pleasant vibe. City Pop album art influenced me to visit the beach this year more than usual, without a doubt.

I bought this mostly for the conversation piece, and because you can’t not acquire the original source of the many take-offs ending in “Electric Boogaloo.”

I did not know this existed. One side of the album is covers of Beach Boys songs, which sounds like a terrible idea, but Yamashita is very good at making the songs his own while honoring them beautifully. The original songs are also great. His albums all have a lot of craft and charm, even through much cheesiness.

I gave up a few months ago on ever finding Steely Dan albums in Hard Off stores. It seemed impossible. So I purchased two of my favorite Steely Dan albums, Aja and Gaucho, online, as 2023 reissues. I didn’t like the idea of having remastered versions (give me what the people heard at the time the album came out!), but it was still nice to listen to them on my turntable and amp on vinyl. Then I found this original Japan release of Aja in a Hard Off. Haha. It is missing the obi, but still wonderful.

I might later elaborate on the project, but one thing I did while in Utah this past week-and-a-half was sort through the boxes of items I had been storing in my parents’ shed since 2004. One item was this scrap of paper that I jotted down in September 2000.

I returned from two years in Japan that month with no plans for education, work, or life. After a day or two back in Utah, I visited a friend I had known in Japan who had returned a few months before me. He told me he had worked over the summer in Las Vegas as a tour guide for Japanese tourists. The job sounded fun. You drove tourists around the Utah national parks and Grand Canyon and ate a lot of steak dinners while being friendly and helpful and telling the guests about the places and repeating the same corny jokes for each new group. Since it was already September, I wasn’t going to be attending any college for at least another semester. I wanted to keep using Japanese. It was perfect.

The scrap of paper is all I had as I drove my Dad’s white Ford Tempo to Las Vegas. I had no friends, job, or place to stay. While still in Utah I had called the number at the top (it still connects to the tour company) to talk to Kurt. He had given my Japanese a cursory test over the phone and deemed it sufficient. So I headed there the next day (or so—memory and records grow murkier each year). I followed the directions to the address. I met Kurt. I was directed to a teriyaki bowl restaurant to meet a guy named Ryan. He directed me to the apartment where their young tour guide dudes lived. No guides were living there, though. Summer was over and they were all back in college. But an amiable mysterious guy named Jim and a six-toed kitten were living there.

The next day I took a $50 check that my grandmother had written for my birthday to the bank. They wouldn’t cash it because I didn’t have an account yet. I took the check to a seedy check-cashing place. They called my very old grandma directly to confirm that it was legitimate. She was confused. I felt alone. Eventually the place gave me 80% of the money. I could live for a week or so. After that I did some work and got paid a bit and got started in life.

The life impact of the scrap of paper blows my mind. Everything about my life now is directly connected with it. The month anfter arriving In Las Vegas, I met my wife, who was going to university there. On the tour guide job, I had guests who influenced me to study Japanese politics and return to Japan. I experienced my first paid interpreting work. I experienced starting from nothing in a new place. Life today all started with it. What a thing.

Recently, my main contact at our waste contractor called and asked to meet. He wanted to bring one of their young executives and one young front-line staff member to talk about their desire and ideas for doing PR at the Ichou Festa that I chair, in addition to their usual (and indispensable) festival waste management services. Since this contact person is who I call anytime I need to dispose of a large amount of trash (ex: the time our squad moved into a new firehouse and had a few decades of old items to discard), I was more than happy to talk to him, despite not being the event coordinator person he would normally contact at the festival. It was my chance to finally return the favor he always does for me: Arranging things for which I should probably be calling their company’s usual channel. I don’t call the usual channel because I like that he’s my guy. Now I can be his guy. It’s nice.

They came to my office. I met the young executive for the first time. The young staff member outlined the things they want to do. My backing should be enough to make their desired PR activity possible. Their main idea is to let kids get familiar with the garbage collection trucks—maybe sit them in the front seat with the engine off, or have them toss a bag or two into the crusher thing in the back, etc.—while their staff chat up the parents about any waste management needs they might have, or just chat aimlessly and leave a good impression. This company is one of several that is contracted by the city to do regular pickup of the city’s official (blue burnable or yellow non-burnable, etc.) trash bags that people purchase at stores; this is how we all pay for city trash collection. (When this system was introduced in 2004, it resulted in waste volume dropping to less than half from where it was when collection was “free,” meaning included in resident taxes.) Having a booth or other activity at the festival gives the “garbage men” a chance to interact with the citizenry and remind the public that they are good humans.

The company is exceptional in my opinion for its employees’ good attitudes when out collecting in neighborhoods. As you might imagine, and surely know if you live in Japan, garbage trucks must navigate many narrow streets and cannot avoid inconveniencing drivers and pedestrians in the process. Sometimes people are not nice to the garbage collectors. But the employees of this company are consistently friendly and smiling and courteous. I like that a lot. Also, the current president, who I would say is 10 to 15 years older than me, is very open on social media about apologizing if one of his trucks gets into a crash or gets a traffic ticket. It’s refreshing.

The young executive who visited me is the son and heir to the current president. He is a good young dude. I made sure to tell him that I like his father a lot, because I do. I also told the young executive that I like his grandparents a lot. The founders of the company, they have been supporters of the festival and community leaders since not long after World War II. The grandmother has led a major yosakoi dance organization for decades. The grandfather was active as a community leader. And both are Zainichi Koreans.

As you can imagine, the people of Korean origin living in Japanese communities before, during, and after WWII were subject to a ton of discrimination and hardship. One of the industries where they were able to make a living and subsequently prosper was scrap metal and waste collection, which was not attractive to average Japanese people. (The name of the company I describe here still includes the word “metal,” although they now handle all kinds of materials.) This family and several others of similar origins in our community worked very hard over the years to build thriving businesses and contribute locally, by serving as neighborhood association leaders, for example, without being citizens. When I first arrived and got involved in community things, my father in-law told me about this and one of the other families in particular. He expressed deep respect for their enterprise and the position they achieved in the community. This inspired me to do things in the community, knowing that there were precedents of people doing the same before me in vastly tougher circumstances.

At the same time, the above grandparents of the young executive kept their Korean community going. Until 2010 or so there was a branch of the South Korea-affiliated group Mindan right across Koshu Kaido from Takao Station. I would see the grandmother going into and out from activities there. (There is also a branch of the North Korea-affiliated group Chongryon in Takao, but international relations and, well, events, have resulted in its members being much less public about it. I would take a similar tack in that situation. The branch building is closely monitored by hourly police patrols.)

During our meeting, after expressing my respect for the young executive’s family, I (gently—discussions of origin can be fraught here) brought up that his grandparents on that side are Korean. I said that although their situation after the war was many times more difficult than mine upon arriving in Japan, and that there is obviously no reasonable comparison to be made, I nevertheless think of them as role models for me as an immigrant. They focused on carving out a good life for themselves, on being good people and paying their taxes and following the rules, and making the community better. They could have easily instead focused on the terrible treatment they received. I imagine some people in their situation did just that. Which would have been perfectly justifiable, too.

Edit that I think is needed: Their company now employs many immigrants from Southeast and South Asia. The several interactions I have had with these employees indicate to me that the company treats them well. This makes me very happy.

When I see their current prosperity and happiness, I take from it the lesson that positively pursuing a good life while making a meaningful community contribution is a very good, if not the best, way to be happy in Japan. It is also a very good way to “integrate” into Japanese society. But I don’t feel like they or I were out to do that as an end. I think we have just found it to be the way to be happy in the place where we find ourselves.

The young executive’s father naturalized long ago, so the son is of course just a regular Japanese dude. When I brought up the ancestry of his amazing grandparents, he said something like “Yeah, it was a surprise for me to learn as a kid that I am half Korean,” in a way that indicated it wasn’t a frequent dinner table topic. When I think about the future of my kids and their kids, one aspect that interests me is how “American” they will be. I have no desire to mold them into people of any priority nationality, per se. Mostly, when my kids were small, I tried to instill good Japanese manners to balance out their non-traditional appearance, to ensure the best possible outcomes in future situations where the way people judged them could have an important effect on their prospects. But I did teach them to make excellent chocolate chip cookies and to appreciate root beer. So the main bases are covered. Except maybe guns 🥴.

I don’t know that I have a great conclusion to all this musing.

Japan is full of insightful immigrant stories, since centuries ago. Please visit the Yanaka or Yamate or other cemeteries in Tokyo or Yokohama, for example. Read the non-Japanese-language gravestones. Be disabused of the idea that you are some kind of pioneer to have come to Japan from another country in the 20th or the 21st century. As new waves of immigration happen now, for different reasons and from different places, I think that the idea of seeking one’s fortune while contributing to the community holds its value. Although there is always a human urge to change things to fit one’s personal preferences when arriving in a new situation, it has worked well for the above role models and for me to first understand the way things work here, make meaningful contributions within the existing system, and as we gain trust, push changes that we see are for the good of the community—as opposed to the satisfaction of arbitrary sensibilities that we may have brought with us.