I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. Given a choice between a brownie or potato chips I will always go for the chips.

But once in a while, I love a piece of German chocolate cake.

The first time I had German chocolate cake it was a Sara Lee version, offered by our family friend, Narazaki.

I’m not sure who introduced him to us but whoever it was probably thought it would be nice for my mother to have someone to talk to in Japanese since there were so few Japanese living in these small towns 50 miles southwest from Boston. Even though he was much older than my parents, closer to my grandparents’ age.

Narazaki was a small quiet man who worked as a gardener for someone named Newhall, a rich old Yankee who drove a Jaguar. My mother and I got a ride in it once, but I don’t remember who was driving. It might have been Narazaki who could have been asked to take it in for service or something. Anyway, we liked the mahogany interior. Later I demanded to have a Matchbox version of the car.

My father liked gardening so he and Narazaki would trade cuttings and bulbs. When my mother and I would visit him at his modest house, they would indeed speak in Japanese. He would make tea and put out some cookies or Sara Lee pound cake or sometimes German chocolate cake! I was too young to know his story. When did he come to America? Was it before the war? How did he deal with the racism? Maybe he was seen as less of a threat – more like a humble servant and not a young Asian woman who had snagged a white husband, which made a lot of people snarl at my mother when she went to the grocery store, the post office, the gas station. Narazaki lived alone. I knew nothing about his family. He was a quiet old Japanese bachelor living in a small WASPY town.

Stomach cancer got him in the end. My mother and I visited him in the hospital, and it was the first time I had ever seen anyone so sick. Really right at death’s door. He looked like a skeleton with Naples yellow skin pulled tight over his bones. It was horrible. Later cancer would claim both my parents though 40 years from one death to another. Since I’m doomed by genetics, I try to get what I can from the present moment.

Like enjoying a slice of German chocolate cake.