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left. They stood silently in the mist. In the pale moonlight, they looked like a small fort where Hannah and William had fought bravely, or a huge tomb that mourned the death of the house. I bit my lip and pressed my forehead against the cold glass. The tears rolled down my cheeks and the glass trembled.
    Two long years have turned Hannahs pickles amber color. In my refrigerator, a few pieces still remain in the bottom of the jar. My regret at having avoided confronting her situation settled at the bottom of my heart like dregs in the stagnant vinegar. She might have been limited financially, with too many difficulties for her to bear alone, and finally had to be taken away under the law of the United States. However, so far as I had seen, she had her own outlook on life and tried to continue her life at home as long as she could. Her independent way of life even contrasted with the modest one of many aged Japanese people who lived with their son or daughter in Japan. It also showed me that there are many limitations that people still needed to overcome in this free nation, too. She was a very American lady, and she was my friend.

"FAIR" MIGHT be the word that I heard most frequently while I lived in the United States. My children learned that they must behave in a fair manner at school every day. The media carried pictures of angry Congressmen with clutched fists yelling, "Japan should be fair!" from Capitol Hill. Even in a checkout line at the supermarket, everyone would blame somebody who tried to cut in front of others! That the people had the courage to express their convictions was admirable. Americans' belief in being fair seemed to be firm at any time and in any place.
    However, I knew there were also exceptions. In the post office at Fort Lee, New Jersey, there was a middle-aged, earnest, and handsome-looking postal clerk. He seldom smiled but always was fair to the customers. He used to tell even a person who looked like he was in a hurry to stand in line, as he added firmly, "You're not the only one in a hurry. Everybody's waiting their turn." People in the line seemed satisfied. One warm day in May 1989, however, a glamorous woman rushed into the post office and went directly to the window of the clerk as he was saying, "Next, please."
    There were about six customers then. I happened to be taking my place at the end of the line. The woman, who had a mass of curly hair, was excessively perfumed and wore a tight, low-cut, leopard-print dress. One by one, a few old ladies in the line looked at her and gasped, "Oh, my God!" but said nothing more. The rest of the customers, old gentlemen, too, might have forgotten to blame the unfair woman at that time. Their attention was completely focused on her hips slowly swinging from side to side. Even the handsome window clerk didn't warn her. He blushed a little and, in fact, looked happy to be answering her. After she left, everybody stared at the clerk. The uncomfortable atmosphere of the place made him do his job in an exceedingly modest manner for a while.
    The world around us is filled with unfair things. Even though this is a world in which honesty doesn't often pay, we shouldn't permit unfair behavior. The reason why a dishonest act doesn't seem to be forgivable, especially to Americans, might be because their ancestors or they themselves had come to the country with the extraordinary expectation that all classes of people should be treated equally. Every time I heard the word, I was sensitive to the determination that Americans must have had to uphold the excellent virtue of fairness.

THE FIRST picture to be televised via satellite from the United States to Japan was on the morning of November 23rd, 1963 (Japan time). It was the news clip of the assassination of the United States' thirty-fifth President, John Fitzgerald Kennedy. To Japan, which had long wanted to have a broadcast relay with the United States, this first-day linkup turned out to be much more than we