Feb. 2, 2007 Why Jesus Loves Pusan* (Letter to a Japanese friend)  The jetfoil ferry from Kyushu arrived in Pusan a bit late. It was full, so it took more time to unload all the passengers. As soon as I got to the subway platform, a Korean man came up from behind and started talking to me in English. We boarded the crowded car together. He was a thin, energetic man of about forty, wearing glasses, carrying a traveler’s backpack like mine. He was a Christian, and he wanted to talk about Jesus Christ. I don’t know how it is in Japan, but here it’s quite common to be approached by Christians who want to spread the gospel. (The verb is “proselytize,” by the way. It’s not one you’re likely to use.) This guy, however, seemed more interested in practicing his English than spreading his religion. His speaking, alas, was better than his listening. I’d tell him something, that I was going to Masan for example, but he couldn’t or wouldn’t get it. He told me about his life an...

In those years, summers seemed endless.   There was enough time to do—or not do—everything in those summers.   September and the end of summer vacation was so far away, it was just a meaningless abstraction.   We’d walk or ride our bikes to the nearby park and see if there were enough kids around to play a game or just work-up.   The problem in summer was that kids would go away on vacation with their folks, and often there weren’t enough kids for an actual game.   If we did get as many of three, we could play in Neal’s back yard; one to pitch, one to catch, and one to swing the bat. (We weren’t allowed to use a real hardball in the back yard; the dimensions were too small and the risk too great of breaking a neighbor’s window.   We’d use a rubberized softball or a wiffle ball. [ 11 ] Marvel of 1950s plastics engineering Lots of times it was just Neal and me; we’d play catch for hours in his front yard; that was best, for if a ba...