‘A Place of Rest’ provides more than delicious meals. It preserves Japanese American traditions and builds intergenerational bonds in Portland

Michiko Usui Kornhauser, 88, has been living alone for years since her husband passed away and her son moved out of state for work. Rather than seeking senior living options, she has found solace in her Portland community, where she enjoys calligraphy, flower arranging, and sharing her childhood experiences in Japan during World War II through public speaking.

But what brings her the most comfort is visiting the basement of Epworth United Methodist Church in the Hawthorne neighborhood. Four days a week, she meets with friends there for a home-style Japanese lunch, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays, she joins in singing nostalgic Japanese songs.

“It’s like eating at home to begin with, and the people who come around and have meals together get to know each other,” Usui Kornhauser said. “I’m so lucky that I can sing all these Japanese songs that (I) never expected in Oregon, my goodness.”

For decades, Usui Kornhauser, other Japanese Americans and people from diverse backgrounds have found connection and belonging at Ikoi no Kai. Launched on Feb. 14, 1979, as a meal program for Portland’s first-generation Japanese Americans, it provided a place where they could enjoy nutritious meals they might not be able to cook themselves while socializing in Japanese.

From government-funded program to independent nonprofit

Ikoi no Kai, which means “a place of rest” in Japanese, is one of the oldest meal programs for seniors of color in Portland. It has been based at Epworth United Methodist Church since its inception. The program was initiated by the Japanese American Ancestral Society and the Japanese American Citizens League in Portland, which conducted a survey in the 1970s to secure government funding for a meal program catering to aging Japanese Americans.

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Initially funded by Multnomah County, Ikoi no Kai started by offering American-style meals prepared at Loaves and Fishes Centers, which also supplied food for the Meals on Wheels program. But in 2008, the county stopped funding the Japanese-specific program, instead shifting support to a broader Asian meal initiative. In response, Ikoi no Kai became an independent nonprofit, relying on donations and shifting its focus to primarily Japanese cuisine.

Now open weekdays except Wednesday, Ikoi no Kai serves beautifully presented three-course Japanese meals — including soup, a main course and dessert — prepared by chefs specializing in Japanese cuisine. The meals incorporate seasonal ingredients donated by local farmers and food entrepreneurs, many of whom are of Japanese descent or from other communities of color.

After each meal, Director Jeannine Shinoda leads diners in chanting oishikatta desu, a Japanese phrase meaning “it was delicious,” as a gesture of appreciation for the chefs and volunteers.

Shinoda, who worked in Portland’s restaurant industry before joining Ikoi no Kai in 2020, recalls being “completely charmed” by the graciousness of the diners. She believes that beyond the nourishing meals, the program fosters a sense of belonging through activities such as sing-alongs, tai chi and field trips.

“Part of our lunch program is coming together in community, and these extracurricular activities really add to the quality of the experience of our seniors here,” she said. “The activities also enhance and create a desire to be here.”

Sharing meals and Minidoka memories

The social connections Ikoi no Kai provides are crucial in Oregon, which ranks among the states with the highest percentage of residents reporting frequent loneliness, according to the U.S. Census Bureau’s Household Pulse Survey. Among the three contiguous Western states, Oregon also has the loneliest Asian American community.

Frances Sumida Palk, a member for more than 40 years, understands the importance of fostering community. A regular visitor, she has made it her mission to welcome new participants. While the director actively recruits new members through newspapers and social media, Sumida Palk helps by visiting fellow members at home and sharing fresh produce to strengthen the community bond.

At 85, Sumida Palk carries the memory of being incarcerated at the Minidoka concentration camp in Idaho as a preschooler during World War II. After returning to Oregon, she occasionally visited Ikoi no Kai with her parents but became a regular after retiring from her teaching career 30 years ago.

Although she also participates in activities at local Buddhist temples and the Veleda Club — a Japanese American women’s group founded in 1949 — she insists on coming to Ikoi no Kai four days a week, even after her parents and many of her friends who shared her experiences at Minidoka have passed.

Since the end of COVID-19 pandemic, she has developed close-knit friendships at her lunch table, and she can’t imagine missing out on the social opportunities the program provides.

“I would be very isolated, because the older you get, you tend to get isolated if you don’t make an effort to go out and meet people,” she said. “I would be very isolated because I would just be living with my son, and my son is not a terribly social person.”

A space to connect with Japanese elders, free from the white gaze

But social isolation isn’t just a senior issue. The recent Household Pulse Survey shows that younger Oregonians, particularly those aged 18-29, report even higher levels of loneliness, with an estimated 26% saying they “always” or “usually” feel lonely.

Ame Hayashi and her spouse, Danny Nevitt, are among the younger members who have found community at Ikoi no Kai.

Originally from New York, they moved to Portland with Hayashi’s mother three years ago in search of a healthier lifestyle and a stronger Japanese community. They were drawn to Ikoi no Kai because, unlike New York’s transient Japanese community, Portland’s is deeply rooted and intergenerational.

Hayashi, 36, grew up in New York speaking Japanese at school and traveling to Japan nearly every year. She now volunteers at Ikoi no Kai, translating menus and event calendars while also co-producing YouTube videos that showcase nostalgic Japanese music from the Shōwa era (1926–1989).

She recalls that her first visit to Ikoi no Kai coincided with a sing-along session — an experience that motivated her 67-year-old mother to keep coming back. Hayashi says the meal program provides a rare space where Japanese Americans, shaped by different generational traumas and historical relationships with the U.S., can unapologetically embrace their cultural identity without constantly having to explain themselves.

“I grew up just being forced to be like a cultural interpreter. People were always asking me things about Japan this and Japan that: What does this mean? What does that mean? And always having to explain myself, explain my Japaneseness and teach all these people, can be tiring.

“Growing up Japanese or Japanese Americans here and Asian Americans in general, I think you need to rest from being tired of the constant white American gaze,” she said.

Like his spouse, Nevitt sees Ikoi no Kai as a place of comfort. “If I ever woke up super depressed or super feeling isolated or lonely or whatever, all I would have to do is to come here,” he said. Beyond dining and chatting with friends, he also volunteers as a food server, dishwasher and librarian, managing a small collection of Japanese books.

Born to a mixed-race family, Nevitt spent his childhood in Japan before moving to Oregon at 18. After living much of his life in New York, he realized he had rarely interacted with Japanese elders until settling in Portland.

Now 51, he says his friendships with Japanese American seniors at Ikoi no Kai have given him a new perspective on aging and a deeper pride in his cultural heritage.

“For me, having people not know what I was or thinking I was Mexican…. just knowing that there’s a Japanese American community that I belong to, that’s a nice feeling.

“People look at elderly people and think, ‘Oh, there’s an old person.’ But when you hear their stories, the things that they’ve done, the things that they still do or what they love doing or the lives that they lived, you learn so much about people,” he said.

An unlikely path to joining Ikoi no Kai

Among the many seniors at Ikoi no Kai, Usui Kornhauser has one of the most unexpected stories of all: the unique way she first became involved with the meal program.

Born in 1936, she grew up as the daughter of a Japanese naval officer and moved frequently across Japan and Taiwan. After Pearl Harbor, her father — unlike many in the Imperial Japanese military — was furious. “Japan is not going to win,” she remembers he told his family. “Japan relies on natural resources in the United States.” In 1944, he was killed at a Japanese naval base in Hollandia, Dutch New Guinea, now known as Jayapura, Indonesia.

Over the next six decades, Usui Kornhauser dedicated herself to her studies, earning degrees in fermentation chemistry from universities in Japan and Brazil. She worked as a research assistant at a Japanese medical school before moving to the United States through an academic exchange program at Hawaii’s East-West Center. She later married a Portland State University professor, and together they raised a son who went on to graduate from Reed College.

Yet one question lingered in her mind: How was her father killed? Seeking answers, Usui Kornhauser began attending American veterans’ gatherings in Portland, sharing her own experiences of World War II in hopes of uncovering the truth.

About 20 years ago, she attended a gathering at Epworth United Methodist Church and later joined a meal at Ikoi no Kai. There, she happened to sit next to a man who unknowingly revealed that he had played a role in her father’s death.

“He got drafted, put on a ship, sent to Australia then New Guinea…he and his men were asked to destroy Japanese bases one morning.

“When I heard the date of my father’s death that the Japanese government gave us and the place where that murder occurred matched,” she said. “I began to cry…I had to tell (the man) that ‘you killed my father,’ and he was so shocked.”

Usui Kornhauser says the man passed away not long after. Despite that painful encounter, she kept returning to Ikoi no Kai for its welcoming atmosphere, finding solace in the company of those who sing with her each week, washing away past sorrows.

“I hope that (Ikoi no Kai) can continue to be like this in the future,” she said.

As an independent nonprofit, Ikoi no Kai relies on individual donations and grants from organizations like the Oregon Health Authority and Portland Clinic Foundation. To help cover costs, the program charges seniors $9 per meal and younger adults $11, though no one is turned away for lack of funds. Additionally, the program delivers lunch boxes once a month to seniors unable to visit in person.

Correction: The story has been updated to say that Michiko Usui Kornhauser’s father, a naval officer, was killed in Hollandia, Dutch New Guinea, now known as Jayapura, Indonesia. OPB regrets the error.