Because I come from a family whose men are confirmed gamblers, I grew up thinking that a chronic shortage of o-kane (money) was the normal state in any household. The grownups didn't even call it o-kane but o-ashi (honorable legs), which accounted for the attack of wanderlust money seemed to get when residing under our roof -- its feet would itch, it'd hem and haw and fidget around. The next minute it would be gone, sprinting off in the direction of the nearest pachinko parlor without so much as a backward glance. In my own case, the o-ashi seemed to wear Rollerblades, exiting from my wallet with the enthusiasm of a 10-year-old turned loose in Yoyogi Park.

So you can be sure that money was a big topic, discussed heatedly and at length, leaving the children to glean its secrets and mysterious subtexts. For example, cash was never just cash, but divided into three categories: ikigane (living cash), shinigane (dead cash) and sutegane (disposable cash). The third, meaning the kind of cash one took to the race track, changed into tickets and tore up in a fury a while later, was the common specimen in my house.

Dead cash pointed to either a stash hidden away in an underwear drawer where it sat without collecting interest or doing anything else worthwhile, or it could be a sweater bought on impulse, never worn and left to rot at the bottom of an underwear drawer.