All critiques are appreciated and considered.
Write an essay in which you tell us about someone who has made an impact on your life and explain how and why this person is important to you.
Drugs, guns, gambling and prostitution. This is business to the Yakuza, yet crime to society.
Coming off the plane from Seattle, a thought took over my mind, one that made me nervous to my stomach. What would come of me here? I, and four of my school friends, had just landed in Japan to stay at our friend Ichi's house. The same friend who told us years ago that his father was an ex-member of the Yakuza, a notorious Japanese crime syndicate. In just a few minutes, we would meet the man that had quite the reputation at our school.
There was tension in the air as we walked out of the airport. There he was, a small man no more than 5'2" with black hair combed to the side and a beard that was noticeably well-groomed. I felt like a giant next to him, yet felt somewhat powerless. My friend introduced us to him in Japanese. He looked up at us curiously, replied, and bowed with his hands behind his back. He seemed to hold such great presence and poise.
After arriving at his home, we noticed a picture on the wall of him and two other men naked with their back facing towards the camera. A colorful tattoo covered every inch of their body from the neck to the ankles, clearly showing allegiance to the Yakuza, but irreversible if no longer a member.
Later, I learned my friend and his family were Shinto. Each morning at six we were told to get up and seat ourselves on bent legs in a room dedicated solely for prayer. Fruit, other foods and plants were placed on a table to represent the different spirits of nature. The sounds of gongs and harmonious chants, and the smell of incense and evergreen all came together to create a symphony of prayer that was nothing like I had ever experienced. All of the disorder and commotion from the outside world was suddenly replaced by the quiet serenity of the moment. This unique symphony created a peacefulness within me. Looking around, I noticed my friends were experiencing something similar. We did not expect to find inner peace at the house of a Yakuza.
During our stay, we waited...waited for some further indication that he was still a Yakuza member. Drugs? No. Guns? No. Prostitutes? No. Maybe a samurai sword? Not even. We could not accept that his father was no longer a member. Everything we witnessed contradicted our Mafia stereotypes. Our friend's father was a devout Shinto, owned an architectural business and had a wife, three sons and a daughter. Though our friend's father walked around with his shirt off showing his intricate tattoo, he was as normal as any father or businessman.
Though we were stubborn in our beliefs, I don't blame ourselves. Society defines what gangsters and mafia members are like. Playing video games and watching movies about the Mafia, we never questioned the actions and characteristics that define the Yakuza. We even accepted the idea that once you've been indoctrinated into the mafia, you can't get out. My friend's father could or could not be a Yakuza, I don't think I'll ever know. But this doesn't really matter because, either way, to me, he's still the same responsible father.
After my visit, I realized you have to give people the benefit of the doubt and not judge them too soon. People should define who they are, not society. A drug lord could be a gentleman and an educated man could be a jerk. Years later, I even learned the Yakuza donated a large portion of money for the relief effort in Japan after the tsunami. Since my visit, I've never looked at people the same way. I treat everyone I meet equally giving them a chance to speak and act for themselves. This experience has become a part of me and something that I will carry for the rest of my life.
Write an essay in which you tell us about someone who has made an impact on your life and explain how and why this person is important to you.
The Yakuza Man
Drugs, guns, gambling and prostitution. This is business to the Yakuza, yet crime to society.
Coming off the plane from Seattle, a thought took over my mind, one that made me nervous to my stomach. What would come of me here? I, and four of my school friends, had just landed in Japan to stay at our friend Ichi's house. The same friend who told us years ago that his father was an ex-member of the Yakuza, a notorious Japanese crime syndicate. In just a few minutes, we would meet the man that had quite the reputation at our school.
There was tension in the air as we walked out of the airport. There he was, a small man no more than 5'2" with black hair combed to the side and a beard that was noticeably well-groomed. I felt like a giant next to him, yet felt somewhat powerless. My friend introduced us to him in Japanese. He looked up at us curiously, replied, and bowed with his hands behind his back. He seemed to hold such great presence and poise.
After arriving at his home, we noticed a picture on the wall of him and two other men naked with their back facing towards the camera. A colorful tattoo covered every inch of their body from the neck to the ankles, clearly showing allegiance to the Yakuza, but irreversible if no longer a member.
Later, I learned my friend and his family were Shinto. Each morning at six we were told to get up and seat ourselves on bent legs in a room dedicated solely for prayer. Fruit, other foods and plants were placed on a table to represent the different spirits of nature. The sounds of gongs and harmonious chants, and the smell of incense and evergreen all came together to create a symphony of prayer that was nothing like I had ever experienced. All of the disorder and commotion from the outside world was suddenly replaced by the quiet serenity of the moment. This unique symphony created a peacefulness within me. Looking around, I noticed my friends were experiencing something similar. We did not expect to find inner peace at the house of a Yakuza.
During our stay, we waited...waited for some further indication that he was still a Yakuza member. Drugs? No. Guns? No. Prostitutes? No. Maybe a samurai sword? Not even. We could not accept that his father was no longer a member. Everything we witnessed contradicted our Mafia stereotypes. Our friend's father was a devout Shinto, owned an architectural business and had a wife, three sons and a daughter. Though our friend's father walked around with his shirt off showing his intricate tattoo, he was as normal as any father or businessman.
Though we were stubborn in our beliefs, I don't blame ourselves. Society defines what gangsters and mafia members are like. Playing video games and watching movies about the Mafia, we never questioned the actions and characteristics that define the Yakuza. We even accepted the idea that once you've been indoctrinated into the mafia, you can't get out. My friend's father could or could not be a Yakuza, I don't think I'll ever know. But this doesn't really matter because, either way, to me, he's still the same responsible father.
After my visit, I realized you have to give people the benefit of the doubt and not judge them too soon. People should define who they are, not society. A drug lord could be a gentleman and an educated man could be a jerk. Years later, I even learned the Yakuza donated a large portion of money for the relief effort in Japan after the tsunami. Since my visit, I've never looked at people the same way. I treat everyone I meet equally giving them a chance to speak and act for themselves. This experience has become a part of me and something that I will carry for the rest of my life.