First Best Friends

It’s the early 1960’s.

Kaori, age six, moves from Japan to New York with her mom and dad. Me, also six, arrives in New York City from France (by way of the Dominican Republic). The destination of the two families is the Lakeview Apartments in Forest Hills (although there is nary a lake in sight). Both new to the country, both only children, both the same age.

We were destined to become each other’s first best friends.

Kaori’s first recollection of me is my “calling for her.” We did that in New York back then. I remember as well. The Boat came to the neighborhood. It was a large metal swing with three rows of seats on the back of a flat-bed truck that the guy had to swing manually. No safety concerns at all. We did that in New York back then.

Unfortunately, we Americanized Kaori’s name to Carol. And we called our moms “Miss Carol’s Mother” and “Miss Martine’s Mother.” How cute that we addressed each other’s mother thusly. Not sure if “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father” got the idea from us or visa versa.

I knocked on Kaori’s apartment door. When the door opened I asked, “Miss Carol’s Mother, can Carol come out and play?”

“No!”

Not what Kaori and I wanted to hear.

Kaori was sitting at the piano, her body quivering, her cheeks red, as tears rolled down her face. Miss Carol’s Mother was serious about Kaori’s future as a concert pianist. It was her piano practicing time and no amount of crying or pleading from either one of us was going to change her mind.

I left and ran away towards the jingling bells of The Boat. Handing the operator my quarter, I jumped onto the ride and sat in one of the lower benches. I was not brave. The ride started as a gentle back and forth gradually picking up speed. The laughter and the shrill yells of “higher” did not drown out Kaori’s pleas for rescue. 

Not only did we learn to be friends  but we did what good friends do and learned about each other’s culture. I remember receiving a Japanese Daruma from Kaori’s mom. It was a piggy bank with a big, round, red head and an eyeless face. Kaori taught me to use chopsticks, create origami cranes, and how to say gochisosama, which means thanks for the delicious meal. Her mom, knowing that I loved them, would make me gyoza. It’s still one of my favorite meals.

I taught her to dance as we watched American Bandstand. Although not Christian, she attended church with us. She even wore a white dress with flowers in her hair for my first communion and posed for a picture with the bishop. I introduced her to western cuisine, lasagna. She also enjoyed my mother’s spaghetti sauce so much, she asked her mom to serve it for dinner. Her mother, clueless as to how to make it, mixed ketchup and water and poured it onto spaghetti. Kaori never asked her again.

We watched “The Man From Uncle” and kissed the TV screen when our favorite spy showed up on the screen. Illya Kuryakin for me, Napoleon Solo for Kaori. We dressed alike on Halloween (kimonos, Kaori added a witch’s hat), played marbles, rode bicycles, and ran to the ice cream truck. When one of us got a doll for our birthday, so did the other. We really were the best of friends.

In 1968, Kaori’s father’s contract ended and Kaori needed to return to Tokyo. We were devastated. We promised to write to each other, and we did for years. How I wish I had kept those letters! Then in our late 20’s, daily life took over. Years went by. We stopped writing to each other, lost touch but thought about each other often.

Then, on March 13th, 2022, I received a message on Instagram. “Martine! From Forest Hills 🖤 It’s Carol, the Japanese girl you taught how to dance go-go!” My heart jumped. We messaged back and forth catching each other up on the past 45 years. 

A trip to Tokyo was in order. We were thrilled that we would reunite. We planned our days and waited for the moment to arrive. At the same time I wondered if we would still have that same connection? Would we enjoy each other’s company? Would we share the laughter we once did?

Finally in Tokyo, on Wednesday, March 27th, 2024, I looked down the street of our meeting point and saw Kaori, running towards me, arms opened wide, with a huge smile that mirrored my own.

For the next week, we walked all over Tokyo reminiscing, sharing our life’s challenges, laughing, and posing for pictures like young girls. We talked about our children and our lives. Would we still have that same connection? Would we enjoy each other’s company? Would we share the laughter we once did? Yes! Yes! Yes!

We even had a gyoza making/eating party at Kaori’s home.

Hanging out with Kaori felt like no time had passed since we were children. We were the same duo we were at The Lakeview Apartments in the 60’s. Some connections are timeless.

I know Miss Carol’s Mother and Miss Martine’s Mother are smiling down on us.