In 1997, my family had a Japanese exchange student live with us for a year. His name was Hiroyuki Furuya, but we called him Hiro. After he moved back to Japan, he and I shared a series of correspondence. Having Hiro as essentially a part of our family for a year, it felt good to keep in touch. Also, the stories he told about his life back in Japan always included Hiro’s particular brand of humor, which often included stories about cute girls that he was attracted to, gross things he encountered in food service jobs, like cockroaches, or gross things from his everyday life, such as butts, hemorrhoids, or poop.
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