Free My Year of Meats by Ruth L. Ozeki Page A

lists could become poetry. She ripped out the pages from the diary and crumpled them in her fist, then made up another.
    Things That Give a Hot Feeling
    The shame of drinking.
Disobedience.
Drunken poetry, full of imperfections.
    She got up slowly, head pounding, and carefully folded the top quilt and the sheets. Then she folded the bottom futon and the thin foam mattress into accordion sections of three. She piled the covers on top of the mattress, laid the buckwheat pillows on top, picked up the entire heap of bedding, and staggered to the closet. She shoved it all inside, onto the shelf, and slid the door shut quickly to keep it from tumbling out. Then she boiled water for tea. By eight o’clock she was dressed and sitting at the low kotatsu table in front of the television. Toes tucked neatly beneath her, she watched the screen, where a young Mexican child stood in the middle of a waving field of wheat, smiling shyly up at her and offering her an enormous pig. It was squirming in his arms, so heavy he could barely hold it. He teetered back and forth on the tips of his toes. Then, in slow motion, the wind caught his big felt hat and blew it up into the air, the pig gave a wriggle and flew from his arms, and the little boy broke into peals of laughter as he chased them both in circles. Akiko felt the tears well up in her eyes as, pen in hand, she smoothed out the sheet of paper, ready to take down the day’s recipe, for Texas-style Beefy Burritos, on the back side of her crumpled poem. The haunting a cappella strains of “Amazing Grace” drowned out the noise of the Tokyo suburb.

JANE
    FAX
    TO: S. Kato
    FROM: Jane Takagi-Little
    DATE: April 12, 1991
     
    Dear Kato-san,
     
    Thank you for your fax. I was very happy to hear about the high ratings for the Martinez show, and I want to thank you for your vote of confidence in allowing me to direct another episode of My American Wife! I will do my best to increase the Authenticity and GeneraL Interest of the program while maintaining the high standards of Helpfulness, Knowledge Enhancement, Wholesomeness, and of course Deliciousness of Meat.
    Please assure Mr. Ueno that I understand his concern that an American director might not be able to satisfy the unique sensibilities of the Japanese audience. I will do my best, and I will be sure to send you proposals in advance for your approval.
    Up until now we have chosen our American Wives based on characteristics that market studies indicate will be attractive to Japanese married women. I think the reason the Martinez family show received such high ratings is because it was different. It widened the audience’s understanding of what it is to be American. I would like to continue to introduce the quirky, rich diversity and the strong sense of individualism that make the people of this country unique.
    Here is my proposal for the next show.
    BEAUDROUX FAMILY
    Askew, Louisiana
    OPENING: Imagine Gone With the Wind. The frame is locked and neatly circumscribes a classical Southern perspective. The long drive cuts straight down the center toward the house, lined on either side by ancient oaks whose branches are laden with beards of Spanish moss. The brick plantation house defines the end of the drive and plugs up its vanishing point. We hear a slow Zydeco “Valse Bébé” or a sliding Cajun blues riff like “Ma Petite Fille Est Gone” by Rockin’ Dopsie.
    An attractive middle-aged woman with faded blond hair and a glimmer of quiet humor in her eye enters from the Left of the frame. She turns to face the camera. “Hi, y’all,” she says, with a slow smile. “I’m Grace Beaudroux. I’m your American Wife today. Now, let’s meet the family.”
    Her words motivate a slow camera dolly forward to reveal a lanky, balding man, deeply tanned.
    “I’m Vern,” he drawls. “Gracie’s loving husband.”
    Again the camera pushes forward, this time to discover a fair-haired daughter, whose pregnancy burgeons at the bottom of the