T minus 14 days

Dirty secret: I am a crossword fan, not keen on sudoku. G-san and I agree that everyone's dad likes sudoku but everyone's mom prefers crosswords. This seems to be global. On the Namboku line all the commuters with sudoku magazines are older men while the young ones read manga, graphic stuff. I even spotted one gent working a sudoku as he walked through Shimbashi station, much like Grand Central Station. Whenever I reveal that I spent most of my professional career in the field of crosswords I get the same remark: "My mom loves crosswords!"

Since I am a "Connector," as described by Malcolm Gladwell, could I resist the impulse to introduce the sudoku crowd to their solving public at the Tokyo American Club? In my American zeal I overlooked the nemawashi, the support of the staff at the Club. The Librarian arranged for posters to be displayed in the Library, which serves one third of the members. The low-key marketing effort took place politely and promptly. Yet our target audience, Japanese men, are not among the book borrowers.

Much to my surprise, the sign up sheet requests the age of our participants. In a culture where seniority counts, age is a brag rather than a state secret. Job hunters list their age on resumes and employers recruit based on age. Blood type is another factor that determines personality, and Japanese politicians are required to reveal if they are unruly B or easygoing O. Not sure exactly how age matters to sudoku solving, but we have the demographics.

The Club president, our own Barack Obama, is pleased to see an event that transcends cultures. Since he took office last year, his hair has grayed as steadily as Obama's. His photo on the wall of Club presidents makes a striking contrast to the string of Walter Cronkites who came before. At the Library I use my pseudonym "Mrs. B," a name I never legally adopted despite 30 years of marriage to Mr. B.

As my insightful friend Imogen put it: "Japan is surprisingly 20th century."