My mother and I held hands whenever we were together. Dad was stationed on Okinawa my senior year in high school. One of my most vivid memories is of Mom and I walking down a street in the village just outside the base. We were exploring the shops for the first time. As we always did, we strolled hand-in-hand as we looked in windows or went in to shops. We hadn't been there long when I noticed people coming out of their shops and watching us. It was a strange and confusing experience. Later I asked our sweet housekeeper (having one was one of the ways Americans stationed there supported the local economy) why people watched us. It wasn't because seeing Americans was a novelty. We had been a presence there since the end of World War II. She said it was because I was so tall - Okinawans tend to be quite short - and my mother had such red hair! And because we held hands, much like many family members did there. My mother made her transition almost 19 years ago and even now, when I...