Several years ago, while I was still living in the U.S., I would often talk to anyone who would listen about my favorite week of the year: Lexington Burger Week. I received a very wide range of responses when I’d bring up this topic: fellow enthusiasts with whom I could swap stories of Burgers Weeks past; compulsive “type A”s who didn’t quite get the idea but loved my usage of lists and maps to plan my experience; friends who couldn’t care less but indulged me, because they cared about me and knew that I would reciprocate by listening to them talk about something I didn’t particularly like… these are just a few.
I don’t really get the same range of reactions here in Japan. That’s understandable, since most people haven’t been within a thousand miles of Lexington and hamburgers are not a very popular indulgence food here. I do still fondly recall meeting Nicole Ehlers for the first time and her already knowing me as “the burger guy”. I don’t know that she meant it in a positive way, but that’s how I chose to remember it.
I always have trouble explaining the personal significance of the week to others, even those who “get it”. Burger Week is, of course, about deliciously beefy, cheesy, and (at times) sweaty overindulgence (beef be with you). It’s also about an inordinate amount of time spend compiling lists, maps, and timetables that are probably not strictly necessary (but are always fun to do).
But is has meaning for me beyond that.
This is the time of year that, no matter how busy adulthood has made us, my little brother and I can spend time together – getting beef sweats, drinking beers, laughing, and talking about the least (and most) important things in the world. This is the time of year that, after almost a decade of hearing about one another from me, my mom can meet Carol Graham and David Overbey, two of my closest colleagues. This is the time of year that Robin Kirby and I can meet and excitedly talk about the imminent new chapters of our lives; realizing a long-held professional goal or moving across the world.
This is the time of year where I not only spent time with the people I cared most about, but also strengthened bonds with acquaintances and colleagues who I didn’t get to see often outside of work. Weeks beforehand, I’d create a timetable in my phone, that would show when, where, and with whom I would be sharing burgers – usually around 14-15 for the week. The burgers mattered, sure, but what was really important was the people. Because of the minor notoriety I gained for my love of the week, it seemed as if everybody made a little bit of extra effort to fit me into their schedules. The result was a week-long celebration of the people in my life, and the relationships I had with them, set against the backdrop of cheap, delicious food being served in a manner which could be easily catalogued, arranged, and codified. Those, my friends, are the ingredients for a very happy Spence.
It’s also the reason that now is when I most miss being in Kentucky, even more so than Thanksgiving and Christmas. Nowadays, when I say home, I’m usually referring to my Sendai apartment. Which, thanks mostly to Yoshi’s influence, looks more and more like a place where an actual adult lives.
This is the time of year, though, where home always means Lexington. Family and friends. Fries and sauces. Beers, laughter, burgers, and stories.
As I sit here, with both eyes and mouth watering, a request. If you happen to enjoy a burger, beer, and some fine company this week, post a few pictures onto Facebook or Instagram. I guarantee that the resultant “like” that I give it has much more meaning for me than it usually does.
Much like Burger Week just isn’t about burgers, my photos for this post aren’t just burgers, either. Instead, enjoy some nostalgic photos featuring people worth celebrating. 😊 (But also a few burgers.)
Satsumasendai, Sakurajima, and Spencer-sensei 