“Nic, only continue to go to college if you are enjoying it,” my professor said in response to my query. At the end of our chat I left his office in Florida State University’s University Center and walked out into the cold February air and began my half-mile walk home to my scholarship house. I looked up at the winter sky. I knew—I was tired of formal schooling; I wanted to pursue a different type of learning. I wanted to do something different—but what? I began journaling and thinking. Questioning. Japan has been a place I have wanted to go to for some time. I decided to go—but what would I do there? With more research I decided to teach English there. The fall of my senior year I began to apply for teaching jobs with two different companies. This decision took me down a path that was completely new to me. As I have begun to follow my dreams I notice how much people have supported me.
Sometimes I don’t fully comprehend it. People say, “Oh, I am so glad for you!” “This is going to be a great opportunity!” Supporters of my dream pop up in weird places. I reconnected with my high school drama teacher who taught English there for five years. My parents met a couple at one of dad’s events who taught in Japan for a couple years. A friend put me in touch with a woman who used to work at FSU’s International Programs who taught there for several years and now lives in the UAE. I have continually been impressed by human kindness and willingness to help others out.
Countless loved ones have offered me words of advice ranging from “make sure you know how to say bathroom in Japanese!” to “Be okay with laughing at yourself”; they support my decision to go to Japan by giving me gifts from money to new chopsticks (a set my Japanese friend gave is a beautiful dark blue and reads “Don’t touch!” in her regional dialect) to American beef jerky (My Japanese teacher gave it to me and said to eat the jerky when I got homesick); friends and family have taken an interest in my life and asked me questions about my future ranging from “where will you live?” (A single apartment) to “how will you get around?” (A used car [maybe a wheelbarrow with an engine?]) and they have invested in my life by taking me out for meals ranging from my last Mexican meal in Tallahassee at “On the Border” with my Asian friends to my last southern breakfast of grits and eggs with my uncle at Blountstown’s infamous Connie’s Kitchen.
We had a family get-together last Saturday where my family got together at my aunt and uncle’s house. I didn’t find out until Thursday evening that they were planning a party for me—I was so surprised! When my mom told me my jaw dropped and my eyes widened. “Why?” “Nic, your family wants to say goodbye to you before you go.” My heart tightened and tears formed in my eyes. How, in my lifetime, will I ever be able to repay these sustained acts of kindness?
It was a lovely evening with just a touch of fall in the air, big billowy Florida clouds on the horizon, kids playing in the lawn, and sloppy joes on our plates. I had a chance to speak with everyone and all were full of well-wishes. The day ended with a smattering of my family on the back porch with the sun setting over the cow pond as we watched thousands of chimney sweeps fly in from across the county to roost for the night in one of the silos.
My mom has always said that you don’t get to choose your family. I have always told them that I will never need to win the lottery in my lifetime because I already won it once with my family. I have been blessed to have aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, and a sister who all inspire me. As a matter of fact, my decision to go to Japan was partly inspired by my grandparents moving to Florida from Delaware and my uncles’ time volunteering in other locales (Washington, DC, Costa Rica, and Canada) in the 1960s as consciousness objectors. I saw how much this experience in their early 20s impacted their lives, and I saw it as an opportune time to give back and expand my world too. I am continually inspired by the pioneering spirit of my family: an entrepreneuring aunt who started her own dairy operation, another three aunts who bravely left home to move away to faraway places. My cousins have invested in their communities by caring for the sick and poor as nurses and doctors. They care for and pick up after their children (and adult children!) as homemakers. They care for the land and animals as farmers and shepherds. And in their own special way, each are teachers. Everyone in my family has taught me something. My grandpa taught me how to prune trees and more importantly taught me the value of diligence. My uncle taught me how to fish and more importantly how to enjoy the stillness of the day. My cousins taught me how to shoot bottle rockets and more importantly the value of inclusiveness. My aunts from afar showed me how to maintain a relationship despite distance. My grandma instilled in me the values of acceptance, forgiveness, gumption, and the importance of a well-stocked candy jar.
I say all this and have yet to even mention my parents and sister. My dad gave me the courage to follow my dreams, step out into the unknown, and go to Japan. My mom showed me the importance of kindness and how a smile gets you farther than a frown. My sister revealed to me that a life-long friendship requires finding common ground despite personal differences, she has shown me that intelligence means nothing without hard work, and that happiness abounds in one who follows his/her own path despite naysayers.
Life is brief and fleeting. None of us know when we will die. A good family friend passed away recently. One of our outside cats died of old age this week too. As I dug the cat’s grave under the silver bell tree I couldn’t help but thinking of my life and my own mortality. Life is a one-way ticket and death is the final stop where all must depart. With this in mind, I think that it is important to be frank and honest with others because we never know which words will be our last ones. Before I depart for Japan, I have been thinking about my family and friends and what my last words to them should be before I depart for the other side of the world. And here is what I want to say:
When I arrive in Japan, it is not just me who is showing up. The memories of my time with friends and family are coming with me. I trust that they will provide solace in times of homesickness. Folks say, “Home is where the heart is.” Where is my heart? It lies in a place with memories of hearty laughter, deep trust, people supporting one another in good times and bad, love beyond reason, and kind souls. These characteristics can be found anywhere from Delaware to North Florida to Japan. The world over is filled with kind souls, men and women of character. I know what they look like and how to find them because I grew up surrounded by such men and women. Wherever I roam I will find them. And this is why I am not afraid of moving to Japan—there my heart will find a home.
