Break On Through: Obon II

(He’s ba-ack! Here in 2009, the family has moved out of our house into my dad’s empty home. Empty in the sense that no one has lived there since we moved out two years ago after our house fire. The Chicago comic con was fun and Steve Guzelis and I got a chance to see Tom Wachowski: friend, artist and a main cog of Strange Fun Comics who was hospitalized. When we saw him two weeks ago, he was alert, talkative and witty. Unfortunately he passed away a week later from pancreatic and diabetes-related illness. He was 42 and leaves a nine-year-old son behind. This episode is dedicated to Tom).

Back to 1990: I think I like sake (Japanese rice wine, and is pronounced sah-kay). Let’s just say that as far as liquids go, it’s my new best friend (except for Coke, of course). After quickly getting drunk and being too stupid to know I was drunk, I have a vague recollection of moving. Moving… must be some sort of kismet thing 19 years from now.
When next I opened my eyes, I was home and fully-dressed lying on my bed. The doorbell rang.
Slowly but surely, I got to the door, opened it and removed the finger of Hanazaki-san from the doorbell. Not a real hangover but an incredible simulation.
He asked if I was ready to go. I glanced at my watch (incidentally, as I write this blog 19 years later, I’m wearing the same watch. My own time machine), it was August 14, and the sun was starting to get low in the sky.
Not wanting to sound ignorant because I had no idea of what he meant, I tried to tell him that I wasn’t ready yet and needed a few moments to get re-dressed. Instead, I think I said: “Nrrrrrrr”, which roughly translates into: “I slept for 20 hours?”.
I was wearing clean everything and was out the door in one Canadian minute, or 20 minutes Japanese time. Remember, time is only relative to the observer,
Now, the following is, I swear, 100 per cent true.
Apparently I was invited by Hanazaki-san to have dinner with his family, but because I wasn’t hip to the intricacies of Obon, I had no idea that the family dinner entailed multiple, multiple generations of Hanazaki’s.
Sitting down cross-legged on some pillows on a tatami (grass) mat, Hanazaki-san’s wife started bringing out the food and drinks. There were six place settings at the table but only four of us sitting at the table. The missus began piling food (no idea what it was, but it was tasty!) onto the two empty settings to her left before passing it to myself, her husband and 20-something son.
She then lifted up a large carafe of warm sake and began pouring some into Hanazaki-san’s glass, then mine, her son’s and then her own. She then poured sake into glasses for the two empty place settings.
Then it got odd.
Mrs. Hanazaki then turned to the empty space top her right and began clapping her hands and chanting “Iki. Iki. Iki” (ic-key.ic-key.ic-key), which roughly translates into “go-go-go.”
Five seconds later, she began applauding and saying what I assume was the Japanese equivalent of “yay!” It sounded like “Yay!”.
Now maybe it was because I was watching her intently or maybe it was the new sake melding with yesterday’s sake, but when I glanced back at the glasses in front of the empty place settings, they were empty. I suppose her son could have drunk them, but I didn’t see it.
Mrs. Hanazaki filled up everyone’s glasses again—including Casper and Spooky—and began her drinking chant and clapping again.
I sucked my drink back like it was water… because I must have been dehydrated from last night’s festivities… but mostly because I was a tad weirded out by what I had just seen.
On the ride home—driven by the missus who, aside from myself was the only one not drunk—Hanazaki-san explained what Obon was about. Now I understood. The two empty plates were for the family ancestors.
Despite the bizarreness of the evening, I am humbled that I was invited to partake in the family dinner with the entire Hanazaki family. And I do mean entire family.
So far, this is two nights in a row with real food. Mooching meals… this could be a way I survive this place, for goodness sake. You can read that last word any way you wish.

Somewhere old friends are not forgot,
Andrew Joseph
PS - Title is by The Doors.