Here’s a rhetorical question: When was the last time you thoroughly enjoyed a cup of tea with a friend? We’ll come back to that thought later.

Tomorrow, Dec. 7, is Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day — the 75th anniversary of “a date which will live in infamy,” as President Franklin D. Roosevelt described the Japanese surprise attack on the Pacific fleet in 1941.

Infamy was an accurate description for the ensuing four years of hostility between Japan and the United States, with furious battles in the Philippines, Inchon and Iwo Jima and ending with the detonation of atomic bombs over Hiroshima and Nagasaki. By the time Japan surrendered on Sept. 2, 1945, it had lost more than 2 million military personnel and another 1.1 million civilians, while 111,606 U.S. service personnel died, 253,142 were wounded and 21,580 were taken prisoner.

Seven decades later, the two nations share a strong and constant alliance based in mutual respect and shared values. President Barack Obama visited Hiroshima in May, the first American president to do so. Now Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe will return the gesture; later this month, he will become the first sitting Japanese prime minister to visit Pearl Harbor.

“This will be a visit to console the souls of the victims,” Abe told reporters in Tokyo. “I would like to show to the world the resolve that horrors of war should never be repeated.”

Obama did not offer apologies for Hiroshima, and likewise, Abe is not expected to offer any for the Pearl Harbor attack. None is expected. None is needed.

The facts of history cannot, will not and should not be altered, although our regard for history and interpretation of its lessons can and should change over time. Let’s not forget the savagery of war; at the same time, let’s not forget the stupidity and narrow-mindedness of leadership that led up to war.

Prime Minister Abe’s regard for Japan’s wartime history has been remorse but not apology. In past appearances he has offered the world “condolences,” but has said that “we must not let our children, grandchildren and even further generations to come, who have nothing to do with that war, be predestined to apologize.” That is an appropriate posture.

Now, back to the question about tea.

The Japanese have a proverb: “ichigo ichie” — its literal translation is “one encounter at a time,” and its meaning is, if you’re going to have tea, make it the most memorable, most enjoyable, most right-now experience that it can be. The idea is to put the entire focus of your being into the act of making, pouring, serving and sipping.

On the surface it all appears ritualistic, rigid and highly structured: exact measures, utensils, stirs, seats and settings, even the sound of water pouring from the ladle to the cup becomes important. There are schools and masters teaching the subtleties of the tea ceremony. And yet, for all the complexity, each ceremony is seen as unique and occupying its own time — the now.

The tea ceremony is an experience and expression of hyperreality, of hyper-simplicity. It establishes a bond between host and guest in which words are superfluous and even unnecessary.

No apologies needed, none expected. The tea cermony could be a metaphor for America’s 70-year affair with Japan.

Ichigo Ichie. Here and now. When was the last time you really enjoyed a cup of tea? That’s not really important. But maybe today’s cup will make all the difference in our outlook. Something to contemplate on the eve of the 75th Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day.