Alexandra Vaillancourt

One of my favorite pastimes is watching home shows on cable TV. I watch shows about decorating, landscape design, how to get your home ready to sell, and following couples as they look at homes to buy. It’s the last category of shows that really burns me up.

Dear Readers,

My friend Amy is getting better. Thanks for all of your support and prayers over the past few weeks. Due to her progress, I’ve been able to return to somewhat of a normal existence, i.e. going to the movies.

I’m a preschool teacher at a parent cooperative school. Parents work alongside teachers every day, playing, preparing snack, making art projects, etc. If I had a dollar for every time a parent said to me, “I couldn’t do this every day…” I would have a bigger wardrobe.

I didn’t think I could write this week. I started to, and then it got too hard, so I stopped. I told my editor that I wasn’t up to it, and that I knew he would understand. As my deadline draws near, however, I realize that I have to write, because of what I want to say. If I didn’t write, I would be a hypocrite.

Editor’s Note: We received the following note from our Boston-based essayist:

“I don't think I'll be able to write this week. One of my best friends is in the hospital with double pneumonia, possibly H1N1. She might die. I was going to write about her. But it is too hard. We've been friends for 17 years. She is only 53. I don't have it in me to write right now. Thanks for understanding.”

Communication has really changed since I was a kid. Used to be, you’d make a phone call by dialing the number on your rotary phone. The phone stayed where it was. You answered the phone by saying, “Hello?” and you never knew who was going to be on the other line. When I was about ten years old, we got a red push button phone, and that was a big deal. Those were the days when you could make crank calls. My friends and I would call the butcher shop and say, “Do you have pig’s feet?” The butcher would say, “Yes,” and we’d say, “Where do you get your shoes?” Or we’d call someone’s house and say, “Is your refrigerator running?” “Yes”. “Better go catch it!” Calls like those provided many minutes of entertainment.

When I met my editor on an airplane, we had an animated conversation for a couple of hours. One of our topics of conversation was titles, as in, what people call each other. To me, titles are pretty fluid. I usually call everyone I meet by his or her first name because I was raised that way, and I think it’s also a generational thing.

In August 2001, I moved to Japan to be an English teacher. Although I had lived in Boston for years, I went to Japan representing my hometown of New York City. I brought books, maps and photos. Two photos I brought were of the NYC skyline, including the Twin Towers, because, to me, that scene represented New York City so well.

You know that expression, “It’s a small world”? It really is. I’ve run into people I know in the most unlikely places, and recently I saw a stranger twice in the same day. More on that later.

I am in between appointments, and it’s lunch time. I decide to grab a quick lunch at the best Japanese bakery this side of Tokyo. When you step inside this bakery, you are in Japan. There is the typical bakery style glass display case, showing various cakes and sweets. There’s a refrigerated drink case, also typical. There’s also a refrigerated section with fresh sandwiches made today. I am unprepared for the emotional response I have to this display.