==JAPAN: KM== [Family]

"Don, Don, Don,..." I was hearing this important sound in my dreams every year in my childhood. "Oh, how stupid of me!" I have overslept this year, also. I would try to tell myself the previous night how I had to wake up early, but every time I missed part of it. With sleep in my eyes, I would jump out of bed and run to the front door. Sliding the door open, the scene would delight me. My father swinging the "Kine" (a huge wooden mallet) downward to the "Usu" (a large wooden bowl) and my mother turning over the "Mochi" (cooked sticky rice) in time to the definite rhythm. Every time the Kine was swung downward, it made a sound which echoed throughout my body and soul. For some time, I would stand spellbound watching this scene.
My family does the "Mochitsuki" at the end of December every year. Most other families buy the Mochi at the store or make it using the Mochitsuki-ki (a machine used to change the cooked rice into Mochi). But even now we continue to do the Mochitsuki, using the Usu and the Kine.
To be sure, the Mochitsuki we are doing is troublesome. It is much easier to use an electric appliance. We must prepare for it from the day before--taking out the Usu, the Kine, the Kama, the Seiro and etc. from the tool shed, and we wash them in ready. The next morning, setting the glutinous rice in the Seiro over the Kama, we wait until the rice is steamed. The important point is to keep the fire beneath burning strongly. The rice steamed, we pound it. Now is the time when the outcome is decided. This rice must be changed into the Mochi while it is hot enough. But practically speaking, the rice should not be pounded at this moment, because if pounded, it splashes in all directions, so we knead the rice for a while. At last we pound it.
Furthermore, to do Mochitsuki, there must be the partner who turns over the mass of Mochi, in addition to the person who pounds it. With them working in the perfect pound-and-turn harmony, the rice changes into the Mochi just like magic.
The Mochitsuki-machine is able to do these jobs with the push of a button, so one day a neighbor asked my father, "You can easily make the Mochi, if you use the Mochitsuki-ki. Why don't you get one?" My father said to him, "Certainly it is much easier to use one, but the Mochi gotten through the use of the Usu and the Kine tastes better. And first of all, I like the action and teamwork of pounding it." I can't forget this matter.
I remember clearly the day I challenged myself to pound the Mochi for the first time. I was in elementary school. I said to my father, "I wanna try to pound." "Really? Maybe you can't," he said with a smile. Working myself into a passion, I tried to hold the Kine. However, it was heavier than I imagined, but now there was no turning back. Standing in front of the Usu, I looked at the Mochi in the hollow of it and I realized that the target I aimed at was smaller than I expected. I swung up the Kine with difficulty and plunged it downward. "Good!" my Kine went right to the Mochi, but something wasn't right. The sound my Kine made was pitiful. Instead of "Don" it sounded like "Plop." Next, I lifted it up and swung downward using my full strength with my face red, but then came the sound I didn't want to hear--"Gori." "Oh my God!" I banged the edge of the Usu, so some broken pieces of wood plunged on the Mochi. Though it seemed easy when I watched my father do it, there was a great difference between what I had seen and what I actually did. "When I was the same age as you, I could completely pound about six-Usus--one-Usu is the quantity of Mochi to be made at a time," he said. More and more I flew into a passion and did my best, but the sound was as poor as ever, and I still pounded the edge sometimes. My father was watching me with a joyful smile, I remember.
In junior-high, I was able to pound one-Usu completely, my mother turning over the Mochi. Finishing one-Usu with difficulty, I was utterly exhausted. After that, my father pounded all the others. I was not in his class, so he looked big.
I have two younger brothers. These days, they pound in turn, while I turn over the Mochi. My parents do almost nothing.
I would often challenge my father to arm-wrestling. However often and hard I would try, I was not able to defeat him. He would say, "It will be impossible for you to defeat me, even if I am a bedridden old man." But now I cannot test him, because I am afraid to defeat him.
Now I realize why mom and dad like the Mochitsuki and looked happy when doing it. I will marry in the future, and my children will watch me pounding someday. And one day my son will beg me to let him pound as I used to. Maybe he will pound the edge of the Usu, I smiling very gleefully. What will he feel from my expression? When he becomes an adult, he will realize it. Yes, certainly he will realize just what I did.
The "Mochitsuki"--It's our most gratifying ceremony! I love it, too.


"Getting It Together"

I am very bad at writing, so at first I was at a loss to write an essay. But this time, I didn't think that I would write it cleverly or make it look attractive. I would picture to myself the image that I want to express and write about it frankly. Just thinking this, I got on with my writing, and I couldn't catch up with my thinking. I'd like to advise those who will write an essay in the future to write abut the thing you want to express frankly. You'll be sure to go on at a smart pace of writing joyfully.