Our Pal Sal

Eight Months Later...

2011-12-16T18:28:00.002+09:00

When things on the Internet change, it sometimes sets people back a bit. I get used to one way of doing something and when a shift happens to change that routine, I don't always realize how I've been affected.

A good example is this blog.

I joined Facebook and began connecting with old friends I thought I'd lost forever, or making new friends I spend a lot of energy and time talking with now, and what was lost was my need to have this place to express myself. I stopped having something to say here, because I'd said it all to someone in Facebook already!

And Google changed, too. The way I used to get into "Blogger" was by clicking on a certain symbol on the Google homepage interface that no longer exists. So without realizing it, I stopped dropping into the blogger dashboard to check on blogs I was following and nearly the entire year has sped by unnoticed. I'm still not sure how to get to "Dashboard" from the Google homepage.

Are there still people out there who check my blog to see if I wrote something new? I doubt it. I never developed much of a following to begin with. Only five people were ever willing to admit they followed it. I mostly used this blog to work through my feelings of loss while my dad went through Alzheimer's and then passed away, now three full years ago. I guess that truth be told, that was the main purpose of beginning the blog in the first place.

I don't want to close up the blog, because I like having this place in cyber space to call my own.

But I also know I will not be coming back regularly to talk to all of you, so please accept my apology ahead of time. It will seem like I don't care anymore. I do, but I am busy caring elsewhere; that's all!

Thank you for checking in on me. May all of you flourish wherever you are planted!

Julie and Julia

2011-04-25T12:36:00.002+09:00

I just finished watching the movie, Julie and Julia. I am a big fan of Meryl Streep's work, and I wanted to see her rendition of Julia's unique way of speaking, sort of slurred and throaty. I didn't know it was a Nora Ephron film till I saw the opening credits. This gave me sense of "yes" in my choice of titles, because I've loved many of the films she has written or directed. My instincts were correct. It was a wonderful film, entwining two true stories: how Julia Child became a French chef and wrote her famous book, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and about a woman named Julie who decided to take a year to go through that book, cooking up the 524 recipes, and blogging about her experiences.

My exposure to Julia Child has been limited yet typical, I think. I grew up seeing her show on PBS once in a while and had the prejudiced impression she was a lush, like a kitchen drinker. She was the brunt of many a joke and comedic skit, and imitated (often cruelly) by a large number of professional comedians on TV. I didn't take her too seriously, as a result, and I certainly didn't feel much respect for her craft or lifework. I went into viewing this film with more respect for Meryl Streep than the character she was to embrace on screen, something I am ashamed to admit, now, after watching the story.

I loved the movie. I loved Meryl's performance; she made me love Julia. If this representation of Julia is accurate, I would have loved Julia (had I known her personally) and I would have tried cooking French cuisine when I was younger, hands down. (Although, I have to admit it baffles me she was a smoker. Aren't smokers supposed to have killed their taste buds or something? This is my only criticism of the woman.) Her enthusiasm for life, and loving food, people, Paris, and challenges must have influenced nearly everyone she met.

I am greatly tempted to go out and buy her book, at long last, even though I have nearly completely given up cooking myself at this point in my life. If menopause ever finishes, I might even want to start cooking again, to be able to enjoy all those really seemingly delicious recipes the actors got to eat in that movie. I really, truly hope their ecstasy wasn't acting but simply the reflection of really delicious dishes, I could also cook for my husband (a diehard fan of all things French) at home.

Further, the blogging part of the movie gave me a kick in the butt about expressing myself on this blog as well, which I haven't been very interested in doing for the past year or more. I would have to say the movie inspired me to speak up. Yes, it was an inspirational film, no question.

If you haven't seen it yet (although I doubt anyone else out there is as behind in their movie-viewing as I am), promise me you will. It really is worth it. Viva la France! Viva la Julia! Viva Nora Ephron films!

Handicraft Hobbies

2011-04-05T21:57:00.004+09:00

I have always enjoyed creating things. I sewed my own clothes in my teens and twenties, did embroidery projects or wrote poems in calligraphy and framed them in colored matte frames to give as gifts from childhood on, studied jewelry-making in high school and college and was honored to make the wedding bands for friends & my brother and sister-in-law. In my late teens I crocheted afghans for my brothers and parents, after my grandma had taught me the basics.

Handicrafts have always been a pleasant hobby, and my perfectionistic nature has helped me maintain a high standard for the finished products. The crafts created give me a great sense of satisfaction and well being. I tend to have low self-esteem, but creating something beautiful makes me feel as though I am living up to my potential, and gives me peace.

That said, it is perhaps unexpected to hear that I gave up most of my handicraft hobbies mid-life when I had T.B. and a number of other physical afflictions hit me simultaneously. Worst affected was my eyesight, making those crafts taxing on the eyes impossible to continue. Even after having laser surgeries on my eyes and recovering, I didn't go back to my creative hobbies; I turned to the television and computer instead.

My mother always encouraged me to do something creative while I struggled through menopause; she knew it would make me feel better and give me a sense of self-worth despite the blues that come with hormonal imbalance. But it was difficult to muster the energy to pick up new supplies and my feet dragged.

Yet, it has been in the past year or so that I have found both the motivation and opportunity to try my hand at some handicrafts again. I made a small wall hanging for friends moving away (shown up at the top of this post), & began making counted cross-stitch ornaments before Christmas to give as gifts. That encouraged me to do more embroidery.

Then, when I was looking around for the embroidery floss I'd put away more than a decade ago, I came across a box of yarn in various colors. Within the box was the first few rows of three different afghans I'd started but soon abandoned. One was in a color I really liked, so I pulled it out. This past week I have enjoyed discovering that crocheting is just like riding a bike; regardless of how long it's been since you gave it a try, it all comes back to you. Crocheting is easy and can be done while watching TV, or when keeping my husband company during his late evening suppers after a long day's work. It soothes me.

I look forward to becoming reacquainted with all the handicrafts I have known and mastered in the past. With my son grown and now married, I have the free time to return to my creative roots and enjoy a new period of artistic productivity.

All I Needed Was Time

2010-12-25T22:37:00.002+09:00

Mac usage update:

It is now about 12 weeks since I began using my new Mac laptop computer. I LOVE it, and have become a firm believer in my son's Gospel According to Apple. I have since downloaded Word into its memory and am happily doing just about everything I used to do on my PC, as well as a myriad of new things learned on the Mac.

I don't feel like an old dog anymore. I feel like a brand new dog!! It appears that all I needed was a bit of time to get used to the higher technology. Maybe my menopause is ending, too, 'cause I have a new lease on life!

Thanks, son! I'm so happy with my Macintosh computer! Woof!

Trying to Teach an Old Dog New Tricks

2010-10-02T19:46:00.005+09:00

Bow wow.

Yes, I am the old dog. The new trick my son is trying to teach me is how to use a Macintosh laptop computer. This computer was his gift to me, promised a year ago, when my old Compaq PC was giving me fits and moved so slowly he could hardly stand to see me use it. He urged me to use his Mac laptop (brought with him from LA for his visit home) and convinced me my life would be much happier and easier if I also left Windows behind and got on the Mac bandwagon.

Since I could never in a million years afford to get one for myself, he graciously worked hard, saved a lot and generously spent a cool grand on his old lady by getting her the latest model, the Snow Leopard. He is teaching me how to use it on this year's visit. We are now finishing up Day Two in his quest to reprogram my computer-related know-how and equip me with enough instruction to cover the bases.

I am limping along, tail between my legs, whimpering. But I have learned:

* how to access the internet and visit all my usual haunts online.

* how to download all my favorite CDs into my music library. (Eventually I will learn how to burn my own original compilation CDs on my Mac. Neat, huh?)

* how to search for movies and dramas online to watch.

* how to do email in either the Mac's mail software or online through gmail, like I used to.

* how to send someone a song via email (couldn't do that on my PC).

* how to access the external hard drive and its content that was a gift from my son's girlfriend.

* how to "share" content from my son's Mac to mine and back again.

That's all in two days! I have taken copious notes, and done certain procedures over and over again, till I remembered finally how to follow the steps without prompting. (If only I can recall it again a few days from now--that'll be the true test!!)

My biggest regret is not having Microsoft Word installed, which means I can't transfer my MANY files from the old PC into the Mac. This alone is the one argument for keeping my old PC set up somewhere in the house so I can continue using Word. I use Word for creating all my documentation as an editor for newsletters in both English and Japanese. Can't imagine life without it!

Such musing, though, is unwelcome to my son's ears. He wants me to be a diehard Mac person now, and no looking back!! I think he feels his money wasn't well spent unless he converts me hook, line and sinker. I hate disappointing him...but...

this old dog appears unwilling to comply. Ah, what to do?

Bow wow!!

East or West, Flute is Best

2010-08-05T18:11:00.006+09:00

This summer is a scorcher, and the heat is gradually getting to me, I'm afraid. But last night I had a rare treat that transported me from the sweaty grind of my daily life to a beautiful musical experience: I attended a flute concert.

I am a pianist (third rate at best), a guitarist (good enough to strum along on the camp songs used in my classes), a former vocalist (before I developed asthma in 1994), and am the daughter of a woman with perfect pitch (which means I have a pretty sharp ear, despite not sharing my mother's gift). I've had a lot of musical experience and training, so I tend to be critical of musicians in general, and performers I get to see with my own eyes in particular. I also LOVE the flute, which both my brother and his wife play, delighting the family with their talents through the many years.

So when a former student (a Chinese woman who's lived in Japan almost as long as I have) invited me to this concert, I was eager to go. Well, to be honest here, I really wanted to attend, but was afraid I might not be able to. I haven't been out to a concert in YEARS. I usually refuse invitations like this. The main reason is my size; I simply can't get my fanny into the seat!! So I never go to the movie theater, or to see a play or lecture. And I rarely can attend a concert, either.

But this woman was part of a group hosting the event, and she had some pull in making arrangements for people who need some "special attention" in their seating. Bless her heart, she went all out for me: arranging a parking space right near the door, making sure there was an ample chair (without armrests) available to sit in along the outer aisle (I was totally comfortable!) with a good view of the stage. She even brought me a cold drink for the intermission! What a dear friend! I didn't have to worry about a thing, and had a VERY easy time of it!

And I am SO grateful to have had the opportunity to attend this particular concert, because it was wonderful! The flutist was Junichiro Taku, a VERY accomplished and entertaining musician. He wore formal attire [with one costume change midway, into very cool Chinese garb to compliment a Chinese piece he played], and used four different flutes for the international program entitled, EAST x WEST. But his interesting banter between songs, and the tricks he used to transform a classical flute into a Chinese recorder, or some other ethnic instrument along similar lines, were nothing short of genius. I cannot praise his ability enough. [As I tend to be critical of professional musicians (especially in Japan, where the least able singer can become a top idol, due to their looks, dancing abilities, and/or fashion trends), Mr. Taku can take these words as high praise, in fact.]

I know I sound stuck up. Forgive me this tendency I have to sound arrogantly superior. Living in Japan, in a culture that has bred a nation of modest, humbly-minded gentlefolk, my way of speaking is glaringly the opposite, despite my own feelings of humility born of a major lack of self-esteem. But I once had a musical gift that defined my identity among my peers, and out of habit I have retained that critical ear and mindset which came with the talent. No one is sadder about having lost it than myself, believe me! But although I am no longer able to carry much of a tune, the asthma hasn't had the power to diminish my appreciation for great entertainment.

If you ever have the opportunity to attend Junichiro Taku's flute recital, by all means go, go, GO! You will not regret it!

Menopause, midway

2010-06-23T23:46:00.004+09:00

I am in the throes of menopause.

It isn't a simple case of one day realizing you haven't gotten a menstrual period in a few months, and lah-di-dah, I think I'll go out and take a new class at the neighborhood culture center! Although, in discussing menopause with my many friends and students, some women have a very lightweight experience and hardly noticed it was happening at the time. Unfortunately, I do not fall into that category!

Menopause is defined in the dictionary as: the permanent cessation of menstruation, normally between the ages of 40 and 50, or the period during which this occurs; female climacteric, or change of life.

Interestingly enough, the dictionary doesn't list all the symptoms of menopause, which are like a myriad of "side dishes" to the main event. Let's see...what all have I experienced to date?

There's the sleeplessness. I wouldn't go so far as to call myself an insomniac; but I struggle with not being able to fall off to sleep for three or four hours at least twice a week. This creates a fatigue that makes me vulnerable to any contagious bug in the air. I've had pneumonia twice in a span of three months this year! It's a drag.

There are the hot flashes. (Or maybe they should be spelled hot flushes!) These are completely unrelated to the season, weather, temperature, and humidity. Suddenly you feel so hot you've just got to fan yourself. In my case, the sweat just pours off the top of my head and down my back. Women experiencing hot flashes turn pink and moist-skinned. These happened to me also in the winter. People were sitting with shawls thrown over their knees and heavy sweaters on, and I was sitting there madly fanning myself! I had these frequently during my forties, and they were one of the first symptoms of menopause I encountered.

There are the headaches. I have to take a bunch of asthma medication every day, so I don't take aspirin or pain relievers as a rule. Therefore, when the headaches come, they simply have to be endured. I also get these occasionally from high blood pressure or constipation, to be totally honest.

There is a sense of hopelessness that comes with the hormonal imbalance of menopause. I find myself trying to escape my life, because if feels intolerable, as is. Work is a saving grace through these shadowy periods. But I rarely feel I have any other value, as a mother, wife, neighbor, or friend, even. Only my relationship with my mom has helped me endure these periods. She has been showering love upon me and that's the only thing that makes me feel better. Gosh, I'm thankful for my mom!

There are irratic periods. All normalcy and predictability of the 28-day cycle goes out the window. Recently I go about two months without a period, and then get one for ten to 14 days! Last year, beginning in July, I had 90 days of menstrual bleeding over three and a half months! Not every day was ultra heavy, but many, many days were. Fortunately I did not get anemic through this patch, but I got mighty tired!! It was impossible to go and aquawalk in our local pool, which is my only source of exercise. So I gained weight during this period as an additional kick in the shins!

My friend (who takes medication for clinical depression) told me I sound clinically depressed, too. She said she had similar feelings of hopelessness and an intolerance for her life, as is, before she was diagnosed. For all I know, this could be true but I am hoping it is only menopause, and therefore a passing inconvenience, to be endured for a few more years, or months... God only knows.

Women have the great privilege and blessing of being able to give birth to children. But the other side to that coin is menopause, and I find I'm paying my dues for that privilege now!

I Love the Mariners

2010-04-20T20:53:00.004+09:00

One of my hobbies is watching MLB on TV. NHK broadcasts one or two games a day, but only those that have teams with Japanese players on them. Due to this trend, very naturally I have grown to love the Japanese players, and tend to root for them tirelessly. The most popular players' daily activity is covered on the sports coverage of the evening news , too.

Of course, my favorite is Ichiro. He grew up outside of Nagoya, and I live about 30-45 min. from that area. So over the years, I've begun to feel a personal pride in his accomplishments; he's one of our own, as it were. Why he chose to play with the Mariners, I've never heard an explanation of, but he's been with them for ten years now. The Mariners have one of the greatest baseball players in the history of the game on their team, yet they are unable to make it to the playoffs, and instead come in last place in their division more often than not. This has given them a somewhat underdog status and image. I'm an old Cubs fan, so rooting for the underdogs comes natural to me! (LOL)

For the 2010 season, the Mariners' active roster has some great names on it. Long time Mariner fans were very happy when Ken Griffey Jr came back to the team a year or two ago, but we are all quite grateful he decided to put off his retirement till after this season. He and Ichiro have a great friendship and at the end of their daily batting practice, regularly slug a bunch of homers into the stands, I've heard. Ken loves to tickle Ichiro, who is constantly on his guard, but to no avail. Supposedly he came up with a new type of tickle for this year, which I have yet to see, but hope to catch a glimpse of eventually.

A great addition this season is Chone Figgins, who came from the LA Angels, I believe. He is a great base stealer, which will put him in good company with Ichiro. Already we have seen the fruit come from him joining the team, and I look forward to getting to know him better in the weeks ahead.

Last Saturday the Mariners were able to win four in a row, and put their average at .500. We'll see if they can change their image as the West Coast Underdogs this year, or not. Either way, I'll be rooting with great gusto. Go Mariners!!!

Scratching the Surface

2010-03-22T23:02:00.003+09:00

I mentioned how I have been having fun on Facebook...reconnecting with old classmates and people from my past. But there is also a downside I've discovered lately that's been disappointing.

Americans are friendly and act interested when they meet you (or meet you again after a long absence) but it's not really a genuine interest--it's superficial. And FB is really superficial...totally surface, without depth.

I can't tell you the number of people who've asked me to write and explain how and why I've ended up in Japan, and I laboriously write it all down and send it off but no one responds to the story. Or someone will insist they are interested to hear how I met my husband and decided to marry him, and I oblige and then no reply is forthcoming. Time and again I try to continue corresponding with someone and they put me off and then NEVER come back to me as they promise to. I wait, maybe send a little reminder a month later after their big event or school obligation (or whatever it is that got in the way before) has long passed. But they aren't interested in continuing. The initial spark is gone (except somehow, I have kept it alive in me) and all I can do is feel abandoned yet one more time, wishing someone would be willing to be a more active friend.

It's like email and cyber communication has corrupted the very basis of good manners and common sense in relationship maintenance. People are so busy keeping everything superficial and NOT face-to-face anymore, that they have no idea how to act politely or exert a little effort in honing their online friendships.

One example of this happened to me just this past week on Facebook. My association with one old high school friend was erased (by her, not me), when she decided she'd had enough of me. Had we lived near each other, or worked in the same office, she wouldn't have been able to just clean me off of her slate with one swipe (and no official goodbye or opportunity offered to work on or repair whatever mishap was the last straw as far as she was concerned), but the cyberworld allowed her to do so: "Slap, whack and don't come back!"

A younger version of myself would have been so upset by this I wouldn't have been able to sleep, and would have shed some tears. But the current me just feels sorry for this woman, who is done with a relationship that had provided both of us many happy conversations and relived memories in the past eight months or so. I would have introduced her to you as one of my dearest new FB friends made despite our being only sort of surface friends in the past.

But there's the rub. I was trying to scratch through the surface this time, while she wanted to keep it firmly in place and undisturbed.

I don't suppose we'll ever get a third chance to become real friends at last. Personally, I will continue to look for others who are willing to help scratch through the surface.

Parental Pride

2010-02-18T18:42:00.004+09:00

My son had a dream when he left home at the age of 21 and went to LA to live. He dreamed of breaking into the music industry and making his own record label. He is now 24 1/2 and the past three years or so have helped him grow up and change in countless ways. Every new step he has taken, and every new direction he has felt led to follow, have taught me to let go as a parent, and come to terms with the constantly changing dynamics of our relationship as parent/child.

I've thought over and over through the years, how ill-prepared we are as new parents, and I often feel that way looking at those younger than I, struggling with parenting issues even now. But I naively imagined all that awkward uncertainty would finally end with a child leaving the nest and flying off to live his own life apart from the Mama Bird. I thought I'd be able to let go and allow my fledgling the space to make his own mistakes and learn from them, without my needing to add my own two cents' worth. I imagined an easy transition from active and involved mom, to one who could step back and give her child the space and respect he deserved upon moving out and establishing his independence.

I think I've achieved this imagined end, ultimately. My son is sensible (most times) and dependable, hard-working like his folks and grandfolks on both sides of his family tree, and has earned my respect as an independent young person. But each step of his growth (and mine) has been painful for me, full of highs and lows, and each step has come as a big surprise. There hasn't been an easy transition EVER; it's all been difficult, full of confusion and shock, frequently leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

Initially, having him leave and establish his own financial independence was an immense relief. I loved the silence in the house during the day; not having to listen to his latest favorite song played over and over (with his CD player set to "repeat") behind his closed door till I went crazy and yelled for him to change it. I admit I missed having someone appreciative to cook for, and I really missed our conversations, but I continued to worry about him and wonder about how things were going for him 24/7. He was so far away, and there was no easy way to check on him, to relieve my imagined 'worst case scenarios.'

I didn't have empty nest syndrome (which is where the mama can't function from the loneliness of having her precious child no longer at home), but I did have a big hole in the middle of my Life Purpose suddenly. I didn't know how to fill that hole with something else. It took a good year to allow the rest of my life to stretch and refit into normalcy again.

I have learned to let go of the ownership I felt for the choices he makes; it is his life, and a reflection of his choices. I'm finally comfortable with that. His choices continue to surprise me, perplex me, concern me and amaze me. But they are his, and he has every right to them, of course.

My most recent area of struggle has been with his making major level choices without consulting us at all. He talks things over with his good friends he's made, and we're not involved in the process one little bit. We get wind of the new direction he's headed after he's already packed his bag and left for the station! This is normal, and understandable...I'm just not used to it yet! So being the parent of an adult child is as much of a learning experience in my fifties as it was in my twenties through forties!

The latest new development in the unfolding drama of my son's life has pleased me to no end: he's taking classes at a nearby community college in LA!! He has a new dream and in order to pursue it, he is extending his education. Today I had the rare treat of hearing all about the registration, classes, teachers, classmates and homework. He's having a ball, and has discovered the joy of studying something he's actually interested in and eager to learn about. Today I'm bathed in Parental Pride, and thankful I had absolutely nothing to do with his decision to do this. It's all his, and all the sweeter because of it.

New Singing Sensation

2010-01-21T17:17:00.005+09:00

On New Year's Eve, one of the most widely watched shows on Japanese television ("Koh Haku" literally Red, White), which is an annual competition between men and women singers divided into teams [women = red, men = white], hosted a special foreign guest, the new singing sensation, Scotland's Susan Boyle.

My husband was sitting on the sofa, using the TV remote liberally, per usual, and I was nearby playing games on the computer, not really listening with much concentration to the TV, when suddenly he says, "Susan Boyle! It's Susan Boyle!" and I said, "Who??" (not having read about her in the paper, as he had). He called me over to watch her sing on Koh Haku, so I did.

A simple woman, in a gorgeous designer gown, was standing in front of a mike, with simple make up, and not much expression on her face, singing the song "I Dreamed a Dream" (which I later learned had been the song she sang on the talent competition show in the UK, where she was first discovered). Frankly, she looked like she could be the neighbor grocer lady, or the school librarian, or an Aunt Trudy somewhere, good at baking gingersnaps. She was Anywhere Woman; she was Everyone Woman. I instantly liked her. Of course, her voice was very nice--not affected or enhanced with tricks or vocal manipulations--it was a pleasant voice, a voice you enjoyed listening to, and could listen to forever without complaint.

I used to be a singer myself, before asthma ravaged my pulmonary equipment and robbed me of the excellent breath control I used to possess. I have a sharp ear, the daughter of a woman with perfect pitch, so I tend to be critical of singers in general, and hold a rather high standard when it comes to judging the vocal talents of others. Although I do not have perfect pitch, I can tell when a voice is off, even a little fraction (sharp or flat), so I am not usually 100% satisfied with the vocal endeavors of the majority of recording artists out there. But Susan Boyle's performance that night, despite being live and in front of a foreign audience in a foreign land (for surely she was nervous!) , seemed flawless and blessed by heaven itself. I was impressed, not with "star quality" but with her excellence in simplicity.

Today the CD I ordered through my food co-op, SUSAN BOYLE I Dreamed A Dream, arrived and I'm sitting here listening to it as I type. Not every recording is perfect, but darn near close! And like a gentle hand soothing the brow of a troubled child, her voice caresses my heart and gives me peace. I feel sorry for the western world who can't hear the bonus track for Japan, "Wings to Fly," which is the best song (closely followed by "Silent Night") in my opinion.

Earlier today, during my co-op delivery, my friend told me she'd heard that Susan Boyle began shouting in a loud voice at the airport suddenly (supposedly from stress, I guess). It isn't an impossible thought, is it, for a quiet and gentle soul living with her elderly folks to suddenly have her world turn upside down by being discovered on that show, trussed up and stuck in the spotlight to sing on show after show, told where to go and when, ripped from her home and her quiet lifestyle, to reach a point where she just couldn't handle it anymore, and need to give a scream (of protest? of fatigue? from hormones, or what?). It's not an impossible thought to me, anyway, and I hope Susan Boyle is given a little more space, a little more control over what happens in her tomorrows, so that her precious drop of heaven (her voice) isn't squeezed right out of her by celebrity and all the false glitter that goes with it.

Go on and holler, Susan! Make them stop a minute and rethink what they're doing to you. Take good care of you, because you are Anywhere Woman, you are Everyone Woman. If you don't look out for yourself, no one else will do it for you, I'm afraid. Thank you for the wonderful songs on your album and this peaceful feeling in my soul which was born while listening to them.

Relationship Maintenance

2010-01-05T20:49:00.003+09:00

Along with the joys of reuniting with old friends on Facebook, I have been inspired to reach out to other friends (who aren't on Facebook) and try to rekindle our communication flow in an effort to maintain a present-tense relationship. This isn't an easy task, as people are busy with their lives and daily schedules, having left me long ago in their memories of high school.

One friend I have "recaptured" recently, and we are making an effort this week to see how much we can continue our ongoing conversation via email exchanges, now that the work week has begun. I have plenty of free time, so I must make the larger effort, and exert the most patience in waiting for replies. I'm not complaining; I have usually done this, even when we were active friends in school, so I'm accustomed to it. It is such a thrill for me to see my email inbox hold yet another entry...perhaps it is from her, and we can take our discussion on husbands, or health issues, or work, or movies, or whatever! one step further.

God made me a born communicator. I'm never happy unless I'm connecting with someone on a genuine, heartfelt level, pouring loving energy into relationship maintenance!!

Back again, at long last, with Christmas musing...

2009-12-10T18:29:00.003+09:00

Hi Everyone, long time, no write!

I took a three-month break from blogging, while having a love affair with Facebook. I didn't have anything significant to say here, 'cause I was so busy reconnecting with old classmates and childhood friends there. I got hooked on a few game applications as well, and then turned all my friends on to them, and THEN took the plunge into challenging them to play against me. Great fun. So much so, that I didn't have any interest in coming back to this blog and trying to articulate anything. Thus, such a long gap between posts.

Fall is always a busy time of year for me. I teach my students about the American traditions of Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas, so I find myself extra busy with parties, baking, dressing up, pulling out old photos to show, searching around for cute stickers or new books about those subjects, or making my own visual aids. Fall has passed and winter is beginning to chill the air; and I must write our yearly family Christmas letter to send out (but haven't finished yet) and get presents into the mail (I'm so behind in that!).

At Thanksgiving time, my mom went to my brother's home for a week's stay and we were able to talk via Skype. A suggestion was made that we disband the tradition of giving presents to the main group of adults (which includes everyone now, as all the kids are grown). Many years ago we began the custom of drawing names so that we'd prepare a gift for just one of the eight-to-twelve adults making up our little family circle. This tradition was nice in that every year you'd get a different person to prepare something for, and it enabled us to shower some attention and thought onto a new target. It gave you a different person to thank each year, too, extending the close feeling you shared with each, in turn. Since my husband never does anything for the holiday himself, but is perfectly content to receive a gift from a member of my family, I prepared the gift for his yearly target as well, meaning that I'd shop &/or make something for two people and most years send off two packages. I also prepare a gift package for my son, who moved out on his own in late October, 2006.

When the suggestion was offered during that Skype call that we stop giving gifts, it was said in a way that sounded like the decision was already made, and everyone seemed glad to stop it; everyone but me. It made the little girl within my heart (who looks forward to the holiday, even now, despite not decorating my home, or having anyone I live with care one way or another) feel forlorn, somehow, to think that my family can't even go to the trouble of having one of them send me a gift anymore.

And I tried to explain my feeling to my brother in an e-mail, but all I sounded was whiny, and mercenary, as though getting a present was the only way I could feel Christmas had come. Ever since, I have been mulling this over and over in my mind. Why is getting a gift so important to me? It isn't so much that I have to have a big tree, all decked out with lights (although I loved having one when my son was young) and a million packages crammed underneath. I don't have to have a Christmas brunch like my mom used to make, with fancy egg and sausage casseroles and schtollen (sp?) fruit bread baked from her mother's recipe. I don't require a big turkey dinner later in the day, or even Christmas carols playing in the background. We keep things simple. And I'm not complaining about that. It's a compromise on all the hoopla which happened traditionally at home growing up, sure, but I can live with compromise (while simultaneously envying the family back home).

But no presents? I am loathe to this idea.

In Japan, Christmas is just another working day. My husband always went downstairs to his shop and opened it for business after we'd taken turns opening our few little gifts (my parents or I had prepared for us) and had pancakes for breakfast. I never accepted jobs on the 25th; I kept the day sacred (and forced my husband to keep the morning sacred, anyway). But this year, my co-worker finally forced me to work in the afternoon on Christmas day; I can't afford to turn down the money because December is a month with a lot of payments due. But to imagine the morning without any presents? It makes me want to cry!

But why?

I still do not understand this melancholy. 2009 is the last year to get a gift from a relative other than my mom (and possibly my son, if he remembers to send me something; I'm not holding my breath!). My dad is gone; he was the big Santa in our family, buying tons of useless junk as well as the occasional useful gift, too. But all his shopping and giftwrapping and hiding gifts here and there and all his generosity just made me feel loved. Maybe it's that presents somehow equals LOVE, to me. Which is why the absence of presents and the implied apathy that goes with it, feels like a lack of esteem, somehow. Oh, I don't know...

All I know is, I'm sorry to see the tradition end. It makes me envy everyone in the states for the holiday all the more.

I Still Have a LONG Way to Go!

2009-09-17T18:25:00.004+09:00

I got together with a class of housewives (roughly my own age) on Wednesday for an English lesson and we got on the subject of establishing a credit rating. I was citing my son's case in the states as an example of how the need to develop your own credit history is often how young people become dependent on using credit cards.

I am not a total stranger to the concept myself. I use credit cards to utilize my "speed pass" at the self-service gas station, to charge orders from a certain food co-op in Kobe, Japan, and to pay for my ETC charges. I use a debit card for ordering clothing online, although I am always nervous of potential identity theft, so keep a tight rein on how much I buy.

By nature I am as far opposite to a gambler as you can get; I am not willing to risk A SINGLE PENNY or ONE YEN COIN!!! So I tend to only go for "sure things" and "dyed-in-the-wool authenticity" for everything in my life. Typically I assumed most everyone was like me in that class of housewives, too. But I had a real surprise in store that day.

When I first came to Japan 27 1/2 years ago, EVERYONE used cash for EVERYTHING. There wasn't any checking system here (still isn't, except for traveler's checks), and people were suspicious and wary of impulsive shopping with credit cards. Then department stores began offering store cards (that incorporated a 5% discount to all purchases) to encourage sales, and many affluent housewives I knew began using such cards automatically. The 5% discount was inconsequential, in my opinion, because prices in dept. stores are marked way up to begin with, but anyway, the custom became less repugnant to the average consumer. Gradually credit card companies began their seductive campaigns to get people to use them, offering free memberships, and other perks for joining. My husband got many cards, despite my lack of interest in using them, and it wasn't until a couple of years later that we discovered some charged as much as 25,000 yen for a year's membership to continue using them. To me, even now, it's like throwing good money after bad, but my husband sees things differently and we continue on using three or four major cards at his insistence. (Oh, brother!)

When I assumed that these housewives would also be loathe to use credit in their daily lifestyles, I was shocked to find that one uses her cell phone to "beep in" the bar code of what she wants to buy at convenience stores, another uses store cards exclusively for grocery shopping and trips to the AEON-related stores, all of them were very aware of the point collecting systems (still a mystery to me) and conscientiously chose to pay bills via credit card in order to collect as many points as possible. The accrued points allowed them to buy train passes, or beer coupons, among other useful things.

Huh? What did you say??

I was flabbergasted and suddenly the odd man out. I knew young people were lulled into living on credit by the "don't bother to think it through" mentality of credit shopping, but these were women who were very industriously thinking things through!! And I hadn't even begun to learn about what had become second nature to them. It certainly gave me pause and forced me to realize I still have a lot to learn in the world of penny-pinching and beating the system at its own game.

One Year Anniversary

2009-07-03T18:16:00.003+09:00

Well, it's been a year since I started this blog. A lot of growth has occurred in that time, regarding my understanding of blogging and what it entails. But one thing cannot be denied: I have definitely lost my passion for "talking outloud" on the web. I'm lucky if I write something once a month, these days. For those kind souls out there who were following my blog with interest and checking in often, I feel like my current pace is doing you a very grave disservice! Yet, I am less introspective and definitely less articulate; I just don't have anything to say that's worth typing. I'm afraid my honeymoon with blogging is irrefutably over.

I joined Facebook, and that's been more interesting to me lately; I've been enjoying reconnecting with childhood friends and many people I haven't seen in over 35 years. It's been a little strange--getting in touch with my far distant past. After moving to Japan, I really strove to maintain relationships with people, but in the end, I was too far away and my visits back home were stretched too far apart. The majority of friends couldn't be bothered beyond enduring receiving my Christmas newsletter. I ended up sort of choosing to leave my American past in America and move on with my life.

The birth of E-mail helped me remind people of my existance to some degree, but Facebook has been more rewarding because we can show photos, leave our comments on others' pages, join groups, research stuff, get organized with the help of many applications, and feel closer to MANY folk I used to have a really strong bond with B.J. (before Japan). The only catch is they have to be on Facebook, too!

An interesting phenomenon has occurred, though, in the midst of "speaking" to old pals in junior high and such...I find myself going right back into my little insecure psyche again. At the ripe old age of 51 I'm chewing my fingernails anxiously wondering if this or that person has decided I'm too weird or straight or religious or verbose to continue a correspondence with me. I'm a tangle of insecure knots. Very distasteful. NOT something I want to be a part of my adult existance!! I paid my dues from 1965-1979. Enough of that, already!

I want to be happy with myself!

A New Adventure in Cyberspace

2009-06-08T17:05:00.004+09:00

Recently I'm exploring the SNS called Facebook. I recently joined without even meaning to, just by checking out my son's url link shared in Mixi, a Japanese SNS. It was all in Japanese, and since I can't read kanji perfectly, wasn't even sure what I was clicking "yes" to, half the time. Before I knew it, I had my own page and the computer was automatically sending out invitations to all the people in my email address to add me to their list of FB friends. It was kind of daunting, frankly, but having already navigated Mixi three years ago, I didn't immediately panic, and have been able to roll with the punches as they've come. (It also helped when I changed the language to English!)

A real motivation in this effort, of course, is getting connected to a variety of old friends...or distant friends; or making new friends, and getting to correspond with this palette of people who weren't accessible two weeks ago! I'm always hungry for correspondents...I can't get enough human contact EVER, so social-networking sites are one form of technology I consider user-friendly!

I was reading an old Entertainment Weekly magazine the other day and happened upon an article written about how Facebook had undergone a "face lift" in March of this year (news to me!), and how awful everyone was finding it, as a result. Having nothing to compare the newly designed format to, I am relatively satisfied. Ignornace is bliss, as they say.

I got very excited today when an influx of messages appeared in my email inbox, all reporting on lots of Facebook activity. Since I use the computer as a stress-diffuser most of the time, having a new "toy" to play with in cyberspace has been awfully nice. Since an old high school friend had tracked me down, and another pal had just gotten married and shared his wedding/honeymoon photos in an album, I had fun today reconnecting with two more fellow c-space explorers!

Technology: Friend or Foe?

2009-05-20T16:09:00.004+09:00

We live in a technological age. Everyone is used to having a cell phone or two and many households out there own laptops as well as desktop computers. A great number of shoppers get a navigational system automatically when they buy a new car and most businesses rely on security systems with extensive technological do-dads, wiring and a fleet of guard men in patrol cars ready to rush over when there's a crack in the armor.

Despite all this, the baby boom generation grew up with one phone in the house (and well-to-do people had an extension!), the importance of sending handwritten thank you notes drilled into them by their moms, and family conversation around the dinner table as the central way to maintain communication channels. We looked people in the eye to 'chat,' and no one was allowed to read something simultaneously (like an text message) while having a conversation.

It was a more polite world, with more considerate and genteel behavior.

When I first moved to Japan, owning a computer was NOT a given yet, and email was still only a theory in some techno-whiz's mind. The terms "windows" and "apple" still only referred to glass squares placed in the wall of a house and a fruit as old as Eden, period. I was dragged kicking and screaming to the computer keyboard by a friend who was as determined to teach me how to use it as I was to avoid touching it at all costs. You can imagine how grateful to her I am, now, thirteen years later! But I can remember when television commercials started showing urls of homepages and thinking, "What about people who don't own a computer???" quickly followed by, "Oh right, I'm really going to be able to jot down that in 15 seconds!"

So how did we get to where we are today, with our Blackberries, Sidekicks, iphones and who knows what else? (I refuse to own a cell phone, so I'm not up-to-the-minute on the latest key equipment.) What is the slowpoke to do, if they haven't gotten on the technological bandwagon and/or jumped on with both feet?

There are a lot of people out there in that kind of pickle...they can't afford to run out and get the latest this and that; they can't afford it even when it's become obsolete and has been replaced by something else hot off the factory lines' press. I'm struggling even with a computer I rely on every day, simply because I haven't updated to Windows XP yet... I'm shut out of much of the latest downloadable software. Sure, I'd like to buy something new, but how in the world do I hope to master using it, if I still haven't got everything on THIS one figured out yet. I know I am so far behind the flow of progression that once I can afford to buy something newer, it'll also be a relic by that time.

The expression "user-friendly" is such an ironic joke! Technology, in general, is NOT user-friendly, even to a fraction of an ounce. User-friendly would be built to last for one thing. It would be timeless for another. I'm left to feel once again, that technology has it in for me... and there's not much hope for change in my situation. sigh

Celebrating a Life VS Mourning a Death

2009-04-18T23:10:00.009+09:00

On March 21st, our family held a memorial service to honor my father, who passed away last November. My mother spent much of the four months between the time of his death till then, planning with great care how best to honor his memory through the memorial service. Anyone who attended it can attest to how lovingly and faithfully she designed every facet; from the musical selections played by the recorder choir my dad loved listening to once a month when they played at church & by the organist in the prelude, to the ones performed by my brother (on guitar) and my nieces (on violin and viola, and again vocally). All the songs the congregation sang were also favorites of my dad.

The best part of the service for me, though, were the words of remembrance given by my brother and my nephew (representing the kids and grandkids), followed by a random and spontaneous selection of comments offered by the guests in attendance, that the pastor went around capturing with a cordless microphone. Although I knew many of the folk reminiscing and could even remember firsthand some of the anecdotes they shared, it was very interesting hearing how my dad had touched their lives and it was gratifying they wanted us to know what he had meant to them.

I wasn't able to contribute anything for the service personally, but I also had the opportunity to pay tribute to my dad by preparing a number of small visual exhibits (for the reception afterwards), celebrating various facets of his life:
1. his artistic talents,

2. his hard work for the International YMCA organization throughout his entire life,

3. his dedication as an editor to many newsletters through the years,

4. his work as a college professor, advisor to foreign students and as the director of Continuing Education at his school and later Assistant to the President (of the college).

5. I had a poster of a world map on the wall, with strings glued from many countries where he worked as consultant and trainer for the Y, to photos from those experiences arranged on the outer border.

6. There was a collage of photos celebrating his life as family man and friend to so many.

My biggest regret was that I never took a proper photo of the exhibit before dismantling it. But I was glad many who attended the reception got to see it. My son was able to catch this one shot of part of it, anyway.

A dear friend wrote me just before I left for the states to attend the service that this was my father's last gift to all of us: the opportunity to gather together and celebrate his life. I felt his presence there, without having him physically present.

I felt him in my eldest brother, who is so like him in character (despite his great efforts to the contrary), it was a little spooky.

I felt him in my cousin, whom I hadn't met in 40 years so it hit me like a ton of bricks when he reminded me of my uncle (who was Dad's younger brother).

I felt him in my son, who dutifully took it upon himself to be the cameraman of the event, bless his heart. I had the same familiar sense of security, knowing I didn't need to use my camera at all and he would "cover" things for all of us (just like my dad used to do).

I felt him in my nephew, who has the same friendly people skills imbedded in his genes!

Daddy was everywhere -- in the Y's Men and Women who loved him enough to come all the way from my hometown in Illinois to attend.

And I felt him in the people of the retirement community where he lived for nearly 13 years, touching lives in a significant way.

The entire day was a joyous celebration of HIS LIFE, beyond any argument. And it proved what I have believed all along: that there is much more value in holding a big party to honor the one that has "gone before" us, rather than have a funeral to mourn their passing, and our loss. In the case of my dad, there wasn't anything lost. He added life everywhere he was and through everyone he touched. Even through his death, LIFE is what remains for us and LIFE is beckoning us to follow in his footsteps!

My Men

2009-04-15T13:23:00.012+09:00

I love this photo. It was taken at the reception for my father's memorial service on March 21st. Can you decipher the relationship between these men? They are the men in my family (minus my husband, who wasn't able to attend the event); all very important to me.

The two on the left are brothers. Probably anyone could guess that; they have looked similarly most of their lives, due to a fondness for facial hair. The second and third from the left are father and son. Their similarity is also striking, probably also due to the shape of their beards, among other shared qualities.

The next fellow, second from the right, is a dead ringer for his father, my deceased uncle. I'm sorry to say I don't have any photos of him to show you; just take my word for it. He's my brothers' and my only first cousin; we got to see him for the first time in 40 years!!

The fellow on the end to the right is my son, of course. He takes after both my husband and I; so there is some likeness shared between he and his American first cousins, shown in the following photo.

The ABCs of Culture Shock

2009-04-06T10:21:00.005+09:00

You know how when a person goes to live in another country everybody talks about culture shock? That's referring to how a person leaves the very familiar and comfortable home country's environment ("A") and discovers how strange and different the new ("B") country's customs seem in comparison to 'home.'

If you live in B long enough (and especially if you have no plan to return to A to live), it becomes less alien and B's culture becomes the more familiar, so that when you go back to visit A again, you experience reverse culture shock. With that, you get to see with much more clarity the quirks or charm points of your original culture, and you can appreciate that it isn't the only way to live anymore. You have an expanded field of reference. You are a stretched, more globally aware individual. The blinders have been dismantled and you will never again see A as A, but rather, as C, a revised version.

The experience of culture shock, and/or reverse culture shock is a wonderful opportunity to gain insight into the way you tick as an individual. You can discover a lot about yourself: why you are the way you are, and why you relate to others the way you do. I tend to be rather self-analytical to begin with, so such an opportunity is a pleasant and welcome one.

That said, I am left wondering what to call the experience I am having right now, upon returning to Japan after three lovely weeks with my mom in her Ohio home. Is there a reverse-reverse culture shock??? My Japanese home (I called "B" up to this point), is being seen in a new light during the period of adjustment back to Japanese time/space/climate, etc. I'm tempted to call it "D" in fact. "D" for dirty (ha ha), or disorganized (and how!), or disturbingly silent.

This trip back to my mom's house was the very first time I got to spend twenty-two days talking to just my mom (for the most part). Twenty-two days of being cared for and cared about by the one person in my life who has the most invested in me; more than husband, son, brothers, other relatives, students or friends. I was immersed in her love 24/7.

I don't know that I've ever felt it this intensely before, because I was always a Daddy's girl, and my relationship with my mom was like sloppy seconds, or something. Never intentionally that of course, but simply as a result of the dynamics at work with my dad; he was possessive of my affection and his attention defined my value as a daughter. When he forgot who I was due to the Alzheimer's, it was a blow to my identity as a daughter.

Having my existence fulfill a big need in my mom after his death was the beginning of healing that gash in my identity and laid the foundation of the wonderful relationship we are now privileged to share. I have never been happier as her daughter. Talking together as much as we did during those twenty-two days was so stress-free. I didn't need the computer, or TV, or a Game Boy, or movies (all coping methods vitally important for stress-diffusion in Japan). I did miss snacking after a couple of weeks (because we tend to eat three meals a day in her world), and found myself doing that more the last week, so that stress-diffuser was still necessary on some level. I need a little more introspection to figure that one out, I guess.

But all the other ways I battle my loneliness in living in a land where I am more misunderstood than not, and have to work so hard to communicate with others (particularly my husband), were completely unnecessary while in the presence of my mom. She listened when I needed to talk, almost compulsively, after the family reunion (in which my elderly aunt and one sister-in-law did talk compulsively to any and everyone for much of the time), and I listened, too, although not as patiently, I'm afraid. It really meant a lot to me to have her love for me reaffirmed. When Daddy was alive, he hogged the Loving Parent Limelight, and I was just foolish enough not to look beyond him much. I can see now I did her a great disservice. I wish she were here to hug in apology!

Hmmm, I can see my culture shock-related musings have veered off into another reflective direction...which I'll take as my cue to stop for today.

It's Been A Privilege

2009-03-09T12:47:00.004+09:00

As my father's memorial service nears, I've been enjoying putting together a collection of friends' and family members' memories and episodes about their relationship with my dad and shared activities of the past. My brother scanned a number of old photos my mom dug out and sent them to me to help me illustrate the words with past images, too.

While typing and laying out the pages for the planned memory book, I've been gradually visualizing the poster collage I will create after arriving at my mom's later this week. I hope to hang the collage in the room where the reception will be held following the service. I bought the file folder book to house the pages I've finished so far on the computer; it is fun to see it all come together after planning this for so long (since a couple of weeks after my dad's passing in mid-November). And it has been a real joy to relive so many memories, and glimpse into ones of my father's friends and associates as well.

In Japan there is a way to describe a man like my dad: they would say, "his face was wide" (顔が広かったです。）. This means he really knew a lot of people from all different walks of life, all over the world. He had a large influence on so many, and I've been blessed to hear their accounts of what a great man he was. Thank you to any of you reading this today. It's been a privilege!

The Gathering of the Clan

2009-02-28T09:25:00.002+09:00

My father's memorial service will be held three weeks from today. I have eleven days to get my act together before my plane takes off, and I arrive in Ohio, at my mom's. I finally got my international driver's license the other day, and I have my re-entry permit already in my passport. I'll get out my suitcase soon and begin to make lists of things to take and what I need to buy while in the states. Thus start the pre-travel jitters that promise to rob me of sleep and peace of mind for the remainder of my preparation time!

The one glowing reward factor--the carrot dangling in front of this old pack mule, as it were--is the thought of the entire family gathered together for the first time in nine long years! This time we'll also welcome to the reunion my first cousin and his wife, someone I haven't seen in over forty years! (We've completely missed out on each others' best years! ha!) So that is an additional 'carrot!'

I am really going to enjoy this opportunity to reunite! My oldest friend from childhood is coming, as well as my oldest friend from my life in Japan. Such blessings to sweeten and refresh this time of grief's closure. May all go smoothly and may my mom's heart be blessed by the gathering of the clan!

Bloomin' Pretty

2009-02-14T14:58:00.006+09:00

A friend gave me a potted amaryllis bulb in December and assured me all I had to do was water it regularly and I would be rewarded with lovely blooms. Well, she was right. It was oh-so simple. As soon as I gave it water the first time, the shoot began to push upward, and seek light. I kept it near the sunny spot on my kitchen counter and regularly rotated it so the stems would grow straight. My friend had told me to water it daily, but the instructions in the box said once a week. I compromised and watered it every three days or so. Just look at how pretty it is!

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, EVERYONE!!

Foundational Friendship

2009-01-28T12:33:00.005+09:00

Yesterday I was blessed by a friend's visit to my home. She lives in Nagoya, 30 kilos away, and made the long drive out to my place in the countryside. She and I have known each other since the very start of my life here in Japan. She was working part-time at the Nagoya YWCA, when I began teaching there back in April of 1982. It turned out that she lived only one subway stop away from mine, and we both attended the same gathering for Christian foreigners in Nagoya, to boot. She had already lived in Japan ten years by the time I came, and was married to the boy from her host family (with whom she lived as a foreign exchange student). Upon sharing our stories we discovered that she was raised in the town nextdoor to my own hometown, back in Illinois! We felt like kindred spirits from the first.

She has been an invaluable help and resource to me in my life here. Initially she answered a miriad of questions I was constantly asking about the Japanese language, culture and way of life. She was a wonderful "big sister" (she's four years my senior). She counseled me when I was unsure about marrying my husband. After I did marry, she and her husband were warm hosts & restaurant dinner companions. This same friend gave birth to her only son the month I conceived my own! So all during my pregnancy and raising my boy she was an experienced advisor and help. I have no doubt whatsoever that God brought us together to be bosom friends for the rest of our lives.

Through the years, we've both had our set of challenges with international marriage, motherhood, teaching English and more recently in combatting disease. Our faith is our one true force for good in all situations, despite the enormous stress that we both encounter in our lives here. We aren't able to meet often, but are so refreshed and blessed whenever we can! And like onions, we continue to reveal inner layers of our most honest hearts so that we can support the other in prayer.

There is an expression in Japanese: kokoro no sasae (emotional support to the heart). This dear old friend is the personification of my heart's sasae, and hers is a foundational friendship, sustaining my life in Japan.

A New Year Has Come

2009-01-05T12:07:00.011+09:00

When I was a girl, my parents always got together with a certain group of friends on New Year's Eve, made up of five or six sets of couples. Each couple hosted the gathering in turn, by rotation. They'd have a potluck (the hosts were responsible for the main dish) and a couple of activities were repeated year after year, such as The White Elephant Present Exchange. [For those of you in Japan who have never heard of a while elephant, this refers to a gag gift, made up of silly, unwanted items.] I remember there was one purple and white frog-shaped coin bank that kept getting wrapped up each year and resubmitted into the White Elephant exchange. They'd all hoot with laughter when the new recipient would unwrap it.

Although I didn't have many personal experiences of memorable New Year's Eve parties, my usual routine was to sit in front of the TV, watching old movies and eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, straight from the pack, enjoying the silence of the empty house. I'd watch the countdown in New York, or Chicago, or wherever, and go to bed by 1 or 2 am, when my parents would gradually make it home after their outing.

When I came to Japan, New Year's was all about the annual Singing Competition on TV called "Kohaku" which means Red/White. The colors (which represent the Japanese flag), are assigned to the two teams, made up mainly of women (red) and men (white) professional singers, groups &/or bands. Watching Kohaku is like a national pastime (in fact, 42.1% of the population tuned in on 12/31/08!!). People look at you weirdly if you admit you have no interest in it. Many people go to the local shrine at midnight, to either pray for the new year, burn something from the ending year in the bonfire there, or greet neighbors and drink sake to stay warm in the brisk night air. Most shrines have a huge bell they hit with a large wooden pole (traditionally rung 108 times) beginning at midnight. There aren't any kisses exchanged, like in America. It feels more low-key to me than it did growing up, yet New Year's is very important to the average Japanese person.

This year my husband worked the night shift on New Year's Eve, so I was alone that evening. I was busy watching the catch-up broadcast of the first six episodes of "Dirty, Sexy Money" on cable (I hate the title, but am a fan of Donald Sutherland and Jill Clayburgh), and didn't even notice when the new year tick-tocked in. New Year's Day was also spent alone, as my husband went directly to another job elsewhere and didn't return home until quite late that evening. Talk about low key! It passed in a blink of an eye and a yawning gape of the mouth!

But the one thing I like about New Year's is the feeling of a fresh start. I usually make a resolution or two, which are stirring around in my heart and head by the end of December and are ready to be articulated by January 1st or 2nd! This year was no different and I could readily make my resolution for 2009: to become more savvy on the computer. This was my resolution in 2007, too, and thanks to the help of one particular friend, I did become much more computer able within the first six months of that year. But this year, specifically, I want to figure out how to download music, burn my own personal favorite musical mix CDs, watch videos or movies online, and save data on back-up disks, without someone leading me by the hand in the seat beside me. Surely I am grown up enough to be able to master these simple tasks!

We wish each other a Happy New Year automatically, but I would like 2009 to be a year with less financial collapse and insecurity; a year where America's Iraqi involvement finally ends and the middle East can find tolerance among warring sides; a time of reunion and joy in celebrating my father's life at his memorial service on March 21st, and year in which I begin to feel healthier and stronger physically. If these things happen, it will indeed be a happy new year for me.

The Hums of Pooh

2008-12-27T13:03:00.006+09:00

I am confident everyone out there knows Winnie the Pooh. What bear from children's literature is more famous than Pooh? He's beloved all over the world. But I wonder if you've heard of The Hums of Pooh, the musical score renditions of Pooh's little songs sung mainly to himself, as his way of thinking outloud. We had this book of music (full of original illustrations and excerpts from A. A. Milne's wonderful series written for his son, Christopher Robin) when I was a child, and I know the melodies and comical Pooh phrasing in the lyrics practically by heart.

Here is an example of one Pooh sang to himself as he climbed way up high in a tree, in pursuit of a bees' nest of honey :

"Isn't it funny how a bear likes honey?
Buzz, buzz, buzz...I wonder why he does?
It's a very funny thought that if bears were bees,
They'd build their nests at the bottom of trees.
And that being so, if the bees were bears
We shouldn't have to climb up all these stairs!"

At least twenty years ago, my brother recorded a cassette tape of my parents reading and singing The Hums of Pooh, which we played often when my son was little. But I lost track of the tape and hadn't played it for at least ten or more years. After my father died last month, he decided to make a keepsake CD of the recording for everyone in our family, as a Christmas present. I received that gift two days ago and played it for the first time just now.

I found myself laughing and crying simultaneously, while waves of nostalgia washed over me. To hear those sweet (young!!) voices of my parents again! And be flung back in time when my son was still small and the reading of Winnie the Pooh, an important nighttime ritual! Or be flung back even further, when my parents read to me as a child, and remember the images those stories and lyrics conjured in my mind! There were only six short hums (songs). I wish there had been more!!

But the CD didn't stop there. My brother and his wife were wise enough to record my parents reminiscing one Christmas, 12 years ago, taking turns talking about their childhoods, how they met, their ethnic backgrounds and answering questions posed by grandchildren about "life in the good old days." I haven't listened to all of it yet, but I know I will enjoy this simple pleasure beyond words' ability to express such joy. It's a priceless gift, to hear again the voice of a loved one who has passed from this world into the next. My deepest thanks go to my brother and sister-in-law for this thoughtful and loving present.

Reflecting on the Busiest Time of the Year

2008-12-15T09:56:00.005+09:00

Despite my birthday falling in the summer, the end of the year was always my favorite time of year as a child. I loved the continuation of Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's celebrations and benefits (candy, good food, presents and lots of vacation time listed among those) and the stimulation of the decorations, music, visits with relatives and friends and the many tastes of each holiday. Let's face it, children get all the perks without the headaches of extra shopping, cooking and cleaning, wondering how to pay for this and that, the juggling of who uses the car, when, and the frantic race against time to try to send out Christmas cards before Dec. 25th!

I moved to Japan fresh out of graduate school, and at the age of 24. I was married by 27 and had a baby 14 mos. later. I was thrust into the adult world of "creating the magic" at holiday time while simultaneously dealing with the culture shock of living in a country that didn't celebrate Halloween, Thanksgiving or Christmas much at all, and New Year's in a very different way than the US. There was very little celebratory support on the part of society, and my husband didn't have any sense of reverence for the traditions I was single-handedly trying to maintain within our home (for our family's sake). In Japan December 25th is a business day, like any other!

Very soon I realized how much work went into a Thanksgiving dinner, and how alone I felt in trying to stir up some holiday atmosphere in our home, because outside the front door there was absolutely none! Holidays lost their sense of magic and gratification. I was constantly battling the disappointment of my own expectations, brought into this time of year innocently, from my rich abundance of happy memories. I spent the majority of my son's growing-up years, knocking myself out without feeling like it was worth it.

For a few years I baked a big turkey dinner and we all enjoyed the meal, but not so much as to justify the days of preparation and expense it required. No one said, I can't wait to eat your sage stuffing, or, Golly I can't wait to have some turkey sandwiches! It was how I felt, but my pleasure wasn't big enough to balance the energy expenditure. By the time I decided to stop doing it, I resented my family's attitude and had a big chip on my shoulder.

I made an Advent calendar like my mom had made for us when I was a child, and dutifully hung up each day's ornament on the banner's felt tree, wondering why my son didn't show any interest in doing it himself. I played Christmas music at home and in the car for six weeks before the day itself, hung up Christmas lights all over our living room, a wreath on the door, holiday towels in our bathroom. We opened presents on Christmas morning, and I made a special pancake brunch each year. I tried REALLY HARD, and I kept on trying for more than a decade, but no fruit came of it. My son was willing to participate, but not overly enthusiastically. If I cut something out, he seemed as indifferent and uninterested as my husband always was. I fought a losing battle. And I'm sorry to say, it snuffed out my motivation to keep on trying (just for my own sake) completely.

Now, each of those holidays are the time of year when I am teaching my students about American culture. I pull out old photos from my childhood, where I'm dressed up for Halloween, my family is sitting around the table on Thanksgiving, or the presents are piled up under the tree. I pull out the Christmas music to play in the background for Christmas parties, where we all make holiday crafts, or sample goodies I've baked to share. It isn't the same, but it is in itself a way to celebrate the holidays. My church always has a special concert or service held on the Saturday evening before Dec. 25th, and I am busy helping the choir get ready for that, and baking treats to display for the refreshments afterwards.

December is my busiest month, by far. And that's without madly decorating my home, baking Christmas cookies to have on hand for when company drops in, or going shopping for loads of gifts. I bake for classes and church. I teach the nativity story to my students, and lead them in Jingle Bells or We Wish You a Merry Christmas with my guitar. I change my Christmas costume jewelry daily (as all who see it get such a kick out of it).

The atmosphere is more subdued, but it exists. Over the years, Japanese society has begun to embrace Halloween and Christmas with more energetic interest. So it's not as lonely as before. And I'm at peace about it, although I feel sort of guilty that an entire chest of drawers I have in storage (full to the brim with Christmas-related STUFF) is never touched, and a tree is never set up anymore. My husband and I never exchange any gifts, but I do try to prepare some for my son! I have faithfully kept up my tradition of sending out a Christmas letter to a large mailing list of friends all over the world, as well as my students and friends in Japan. And I look forward to the Skype call from my gathered family in the states.

My files of past Christmas letters sent...

Let me take this opportunity to wish all of you a most happy and gratifying holiday season! It will be challenging to maintain a happy tone this year, with the economic upheaval in the states, but count your blessings and pray with me for new winds of change to blow in the coming year!

Thankful this Thanksgiving for Skype

2008-11-29T14:26:00.004+09:00

I just got off the "phone" (conference call via Skype between my two brothers' homes and mine) with my American family. We had a lovely hour-plus talk including two nieces, two sisters-in-law, my mom, my brothers and me. In my mind's eye, I could see every one of their faces as though we were in the same room. I heard myself laughing here and there and swore it was my dad's presence, because I found myself acting like him in a typical family call, holding back and doing more listening than talking and chuckling in all the appropriate places. (That part was a little spooky, because at least three different times my own laughter sounded like Daddy's.)

I had been peevish and off-color for the past three or four days, miffed that I couldn't enjoy feasting with the family, or eating turkey in any capacity as it is still rare in Japan and not found on restaurant menus (and I can't afford to cook one just for ME, at home). I had had to initiate a lot of correspondence to coordinate the time of the call, which would be acceptable to the three different time zones we occupy. I spent a lot of time with Skype turned on, sitting in front of my computer, hoping someone would think of me and want to call. As time went on and everyone's Skype icon was still set to 'offline' I began to feel more and more sorry for myself, making me even more peevish when I broke down and called my son to complain of the holiday lonelies.

But today I was so happy to finally hear all their voices and laughter, descriptions of wonderful dishes added to the Thanksgiving Day feasts they shared, have questions asked and answered about Christmas gift ideas and other family-related issues we discussed...the hour flew by in a flash, and I was left happy and satisfied, as full of love and contentment as I would have been to share the holiday with them in person.

All that satisfaction, and it didn't cost a cent--thanks to the wonderful men who invented Skype in the first place and put it out there for all to use. This year I am indeed grateful to you, sirs! May God bless you richly, as your generous invention has blessed my family and I!

Taken at Thanksgiving, 2005, the last time we could spend it all together

"Spanglish"

2008-11-26T11:55:00.005+09:00

I just finished rewatching a video I have of the film, Spanglish. Directed by James L. Brooks (who directed As Good As It Gets), this movie stars Adam Sandler, Téa Leoni, Paz Vega and Cloris Leachman, and all of them gave really excellent performances.

My son is an Adam Sandler fan, so we have seen just about all that man has ever made. His comedies, which span the continuum from graphically gross to side-splittingly hilarious, are not well known for being subtle or overly sensitive. But his performance in Spanglish is top rate, and totally believable. My respect for him as an actor deepened significantly after seeing this film.

Another surprise was Téa Leoni's contribution as Sandler's wife, who borders on psychotic at times, she is so driven. I've seen Leoni in a lot of films in the past, too, and have never seen her own a role more than this one. Her character was absolutely pitiful, which of course, was the whole point.

As I grew up on Mary Tyler Moore sitcoms, I saw a lot of Cloris Leachman on TV as a child. But she was usually in one kind of role, and not a very lovable one, I'm afraid. But in Spanglish (as Leoni's mom), you feel for her character while simultaneously admiring her. She's topnotch in this film.

The Spanish actress, Paz Vega, was the greatest discovery for me in this movie. She's a beauty along the lines of Penelope Cruz (I checked her biography and there wasn't any mention of them being relatives, although they could be cousins as far as I'm concerned), and hers was a very compelling performance.

The basic story is Paz and daughter emigrate from Mexico to LA and she begins to work for Adam and Téa's family. The wife is always interfering with Paz's daughter, undermining the strong values being taught by Paz. Téa's character is also alienating to her own daughter, particularly, despite her everpresent "good intentions." Adam's character is a top chef with a celebrated restaurant of his own, devoted to his kids and wife, in spite of her dysfunctional quirks, but a sense of discontent is increasing around the time Paz joins the family as household "help." Her inability to speak English doesn't distance her from the family; rather, her warmth and vitality as a person breaks the language barrier. Adam grows steadily attracted to her, and she to his sensitivity as a man (in direct contrast to the typical Mexican macho type). But this movie isn't as much about growing romantic feelings as it is about family relationships, and the boundaries set by responsibity to them.

This movie was meaningful to me on a personal note, as well. While raising my son in Japan, I often felt as though the trends of pop culture and crumbling family values evident in Japanese society were competing with the basic tenets of morality, faith and common sense I was trying to instill to my son. Just as Paz and her daughter spoke Spanish between them, my son and I spoke English at home and in public, to keep a sense of privacy. Whenever we went to the states, we spoke in Japanese, for the same purpose. Classmates had exorbitant allowances and the latest game software or gadgets frequently bought for them, which I had no intention of imitating with my son. People tend to indulge and spoil kids here, and I felt I was always fighting that. So I identified with Paz's character's position.

The film was made in 2004 and came out in theaters that December. The critics' response ran the gambit, but it made 46 million in the box office. As it didn't turn out to be Oscar-winning material, Spanglish didn't make as big a wave as it deserved, but this is a must-see, in my opinion, just the same. It's available on DVD, and I highly recommend you checking it out at your neighborhood rental shop.

Rest in Peace, Papa

2008-11-19T00:51:00.005+09:00

My mom called tonight with the news that my father has passed away. He died the night of his 86th birthday, after fighting Alzheimer's Disease for over ten years (though it is difficult to pin down exactly when that affliction began). He was the greatest man I ever knew, and with his death an era has ended.

I was a shameless Daddy's Girl. My pop made me feel special and worthy of spoiling. I have two older brothers who always shared a room. From their perspective, I must have seemed the lucky one, getting a room to myself. But I often felt lonely and wished for a sister or a playmate. Thanks to my dad's attention and affection (liberally bestowed upon me, despite the restrictions of a college professor's busy schedule) I had a built-in comrade at home; someone to harmonize with when singing old standards in the car, a fellow Cubs fan to watch televised games and drink bottled Tab with on hot summer afternoons, a diehard supporter of my musical and artistic efforts, my own personal Candyman, generous to a fault.

My dad was bigger than life. A tireless volunteer, he selflessly gave his heart, soul, sweat and time to the YMCA; he served them first as a camp counselor and then as a Y executive, later as a professor in a university training Y staff people and as an International Y's Man. He organized countless fund raisers for Y World Service, and annually helped organize and walk in "Miles For Mankind" sponsored walkathons. He worked hard in our church, too. Both he and my mom were always on this committee or that, and his was one of the loudest voices urging us to support foreign missions.

My father always used to say he would rather wear out than rust out. He would never have chosen Alzheimer's as the way to die. He liked to feel useful, to help others. This was always his motivation behind the zillions of volunteer activities I saw him commit his time to through the years. Even in his retirement village, he was constantly lending a hand, visiting shut-ins, pushing a broom in the Alzheimer's Ward -- even after becoming a patient there! It was hard to just sit still. He wanted to earn his keep in life.

He had his share of quirks, Lord knows. And he passed on to his kids many of them: I'm a bundle of them, myself! But when all is said and done, I'm so very proud he was my dad. I'm grateful to God that he passed rather peacefully in the end. Mom said she could visit him daily at the end there...each time saying her goodbyes as though they were the last. Someone once called Alzheimer's Disease "the long goodbye" or something like that. Mom found that to be true. She's been gradually saying goodbye for the past year or more. And I have, too, I guess.

My dad will be remembered by many, I know. Rest in peace, Papa. I love you!

The Joys of Reading

2008-11-05T14:01:00.004+09:00

I am a big fan of reading book series. I got hooked on this concept as a girl, reading stories about the Bobbsey Twins, Trixie Belden, Nancy Drew, Anne of Green Gables; the Little House books, Perry Mason mysteries, Agatha Christie mysteries (starring both Hercule Poirot and Miss Jane Marple), the Chronicles of Narnia and Tolkien's Lord of the Rings series, etc. I read all of the Boxcar Children books to my son. And in adult years I've read all of James Clavell's works, Jan Karon's Mitford series, the Left Behind books, the Harry Potter series, all of James Herriot's tales, and have reread countless times most of the beloved series of my youth.

I love getting to know the characters and hearing how they grow and change over an extended period of time. They become friends with whom I am eager to continue a relationship. I'm a sucker for sequels in the movies, too, although I'm often disappointed in the long run with cinematic Part Twos and Threes.

In the summer of 2007, while visiting my folks back in the states, my mom gave me a paperback she had finished reading called The Cat Who Went into the Closet by Lilian Jackson Braun. Presto! I was hooked on yet another wonderful series of stories, all about one Chicago journalist, his pet Siamese cats and the mysteries they solve first in Chicagoland, and later while living up in a forested area "400 miles north of everywhere" in the boondocks (probably of Minnesota, Wisconsin or Michigan--it is never entirely clear which state).

The story my mother had was smack dab in the middle of the series, so I decided to slowly order all the rest from Amazon.com, and have spent the last 15 mos. reading them all in chronological order. They're wonderful; comical, intriguing, and very entertaining! L.J.Braun cranks out a new one every few months and I've enjoyed them all. If you love cats and/or mysteries, I heartily recommend The Cat Who... series!

Does anyone out there have a book series they recommend??

Correspondence, Simplified

2008-11-03T21:20:00.003+09:00

My folks and I have always shared a wonderful relationship via the postal system. My dad was a great one for supporting the local post office by taking out a post box annually and having most of his business and personal correspondence go to that address. He always wanted me to write him via his post box number.

Then I would write my mom separate letters to their street address, and I would write letters to the two of them to that address, too, which meant I always needed to lay in a supply of postage stamps. When a branch PO opened a few doors up the street, I was thrilled! It made keeping in touch via snailmail all that much easier.

My dad has Alzheimer's Disease, so for years his letters (which bless his heart, still came in the mail pretty often) were often written clearly showing by their content he had no idea who I was, or continued to say the same basic thing over and over. Every once in a while the letter would be lucid and obviously written when he had a grasp of who I was and could remember the jist of his (once extensive) vocabulary. These letters are now like treasures to me, never to be discarded. Because my father can not write me a letter anymore. He is in a wheel chair, slowly slipping away from this life, caught in the snare of a disease that has locked away his cognitive ability.

Now I write to my mom a couple of times a week, or once every five days or so. My letters are only reporting what my days have been like, or throwing in commentary on the weather or my students, etc. Nothing too earth shattering, I can tell you. But my mom is so happy to hear from me, it inspires me to pull out my stationery and airmail envelopes at the drop of a hat! I think of her so often, I might as well tell her so!

My parents used to call every three weeks or so, and although my mom and I did most of the talking, with my dad a silent listener in the background, he frequently would remind us of his presence by saying in a low, comical voice, "This call is being monitored!" or "Let's not rake up the national debt on this call, ladies." These days my mom calls me once a week and talks as long as an hour or an hour and a half. Though she often tells me something I've heard before, I am glad to be an audience for her detailed reports of visits to my dad at his nursing care facility, or to help brainstorm ideas for things to do with him. She always seems relieved to have heard my voice, so I'm glad it is therapeutic for her. And I'm always happy to hear her say how much she loves my letters!

I am so thankful for her letters to me, too, as now they are often the only ones I ever get in my mailbox anymore (save the occasional card from my son or brother's family). E-mail is a wonderful invention, but knowing it is always there does mean the art of sitting down and composing a letter by hand and mailing it through the postal system is gradually being lost from our society. My mom and her mother also wrote weekly letters to each other in the final decades of my grandmother's life. I'm happy to continue on with this tradition!

I Love Fall

2008-10-24T18:40:00.011+09:00

Last year I received my first digital camera for my birthday in the summertime, and enjoyed taking a LOT of pictures with it for months afterwards. I ended up snapping tons of nature shots, and the autumn landscape was completely cooperative! The following photos are bi-products of that delightful time:

This Logic Does Not Compute

2008-10-20T19:04:00.003+09:00

I cannot stand forwarded mail. I get my share of it, although it is at a minimum because I always ask people not to send it to me. My sister-in-law sends me only things that are related to health or safety that she thinks I really should look at. I don't mind this kind of forwarded mail. One woman I know sends me a bunch of stuff, most of which I throw away. But once in a while she sends really interesting and intriguing photo collections. These I also appreciate, and usually save.

There are others who ONLY send me forwarded stuff (and even that, rarely) and never a note or personal message. EVER. To my mind, this means they have discarded my affections and are not interested in remaining friends. After all, people, language is the human way to communicate... give that up and unless you're meeting face to face and doing some other activity together, you have nothing to show for your relationship, past or present, except maybe a photo or two.

Anything that comes with the request that I send it on to others I automatically resent (and refuse to comply). I don't care how warm and fuzzy it's designed to make people feel...I just think it is inappropriate to try and coerce people into sending email chain letters. We gave that up when we got to junior high age, don't you remember?? It's juvenile behavior. I refuse to participate.

Then there was person who thought up this nonjustification for forwarding messages.

This comic is inane, in my opinion. It's trying to convince me to interpret forwarded mailings as someone's way to maintain my friendship. Well, I'm not going to be duped by this mentality, so if you are out there, thinking that this is an automatic plus to your friendship with someone...
guess what!? It just might not be, in fact, to my mind it reeks of lazy and irresponsible promotion of surface and insignificant relationships, AND junk mail!!

Okay, okay, I know, I'm raving. I'll get off my soap box now.

Three Months

2008-10-18T11:09:00.002+09:00

It has been three months since I began this blog. At first I was constantly bugging my friend Jeana (who inspired me to start it by showing me her own) for advice and help in setting things up. The need for her guidance faded in time as I got more and more comfortable with Blogger and the ins and outs of adding gadgets in my sidebar, etc. Thanks again, Jeana, for all the support you've shown in the past and continue to give me! I love how blogs have given our relationship a new leg to stand on! ;-)

One of the gadgets Jeana introduced to me was Sitemeter, a free service that keeps track of the people accessing one's blog. You can't see their names, of course, but you can see where they're located, through what means they accessed your site, how many minutes they stayed there while reading your posts, and get a feel for how often they visit. I have regulars in a number of places in Japan who access frequently and stay for 20 minutes or more at a shot. I feel rather grateful for their loyalty, and wish they'd comment sometime (in Japanese is okay, you guys! I can read it and answer you back in it, if you want).

But Sitemeter also shows the people who access my site and stay less than a second, because the "duration" of their visit is 00:00, according to Sitemeter's record. The majority of these ghost visitors are in countries other than Japan or the US. I've been visited by the Ukraine, Israel, Turkey, China, France, Canada, The Czech Republic, India, Malaysia, Germany, the Netherlands, Greece and Spain. There have been more; but these are the ones I could see in the past 100 visitors (Sitemeter only keeps the most recent 100 visitors on file). The person in Spain stayed 8 seconds, but all the rest only bopped in and bopped out immediately after. What are they searching for, I wonder? How do they happen to find me and by what criteria do they instantaneously decide my blog is not worth more than a second or two's consideration on their part? It is mysterious and confusing to me...what am I missing?

For those of you who DO visit regularly, and who spend many minutes (thank you, thank you!) studying my posts, please consider becoming official "Followers" of my blog. You have to click on the sidebar marked Followers (on the part that says FOLLOW THIS BLOG) and it will guide you through the simple procedure to register your nick name, chosen photo (optional), &/or blog address so I can come and visit you, too. This isn't some plot to exploit you or invade your privacy. It's more a way to say "Hi, Sal!" openly and give me the opportunity to say hello back. Please think about it and if you're willing to come out and be counted, please do. Whoever it is in Fuchu, Tokyo--thanks for visiting! Same goes for my Okazaki, Ichinomiya, and Nagoya, Aichi followers! I was thrilled to see someone in Naperville, Illinois (where I grew up) stopped to visit a while recently. Please don't be shy! Stop and say hello!

Cooking From Scratch

2008-10-13T16:26:00.006+09:00

When I moved to Japan in 1982, I felt like everything was 30 years behind the states--the trust level of strangers, the low statistics in crime, the moral fiber of society, the sexism of TV and the work place, not to mention the average home and family. It all reminded me of the era in which I was born--the 1950's! And in 1982, the majority of Japanese cooks were dyed-in-the-wool believers of cooking from scratch.

The average housewife I met in the English conversation classes I taught were in their 40's and 50's, with children grown enough for them to feel free to pursue a hobby (such as mastering English). But I was amazed by their discipline in managing household chores each day, while cooking full breakfasts and dinners for their families without the use of convenience foods (or appliances, like microwave ovens). Those (microwaves, and the wave of processed foods to nuke in them) didn't come for another ten years after that.

I had been raised in a home where my mom had cooked most everything from scratch, but she also liked to use a crock pot, casserole recipes (which are often just the combination of any number of canned or frozen ingredients before baking in an oven) and a number of packaged and prepared seasonings, baking mixes and bottled sauces to prepare our family meals. I learned how to cook and bake utilizing these short cuts and was satisfied with the results.

I came to Japan and was shocked to learn that no one used frozen vegetables, and canned veggies were also available in abundance only at the international store. Most of the cookbooks I had in possession were recipes requiring 'short cut ingredients' I couldn't find in the neighborhood Japanese market. All the cooks I knew here could de-scale and gut whole fish, for heaven's sake--something I have never aspired to master. It's considered no big deal-- a basic cooking skill in this country; and still is one of the components in most beginner cooking classes! Of course, fish (and other fresh seafood) is a major fare here, and I grew up in the Midwest, where "Mrs. Paul's Fish Sticks" and canned "Chicken of the Sea" tunafish was the most fish I ever wanted as a kid.

So I had to become reconditioned as a cook from the ground up, once I began living in Japan. I was insecure and unsure how to proceed. I'd be invited over to someone's house for a home-cooked meal and ask the cook how she'd made a dish, and she wouldn't have a recipe to copy down for me, per se...it was all sort of in her head and heart. She'd learned by watching her own mom or gramma cook, and could imitate their repertoire till it became her own.

I was constantly discouraged by the tekito method of cooking in Japan (a little of this, a dash of that)--it all seemed so random! I felt I was being set up for sure-fire failure in the kitchen. But in time I, too, have developed a kind of instinct and confidence as a cook in Japan, and now am the first to encourage others in the tekito culinary arts. You aren't chained to a set of measuring cups and spoons anymore! Instead you pour in a little or a little more, and taste as you go. It is a freedom to improve a basic recipe with whatever inspiration you may feel at the time. Of course, there were failures along the way. It took time to develop my instinct as a cook unchained to a cookbook. I still write down the instructions of friends' descriptions of how they cooked a new dish I'd like to master. But after a few tries, I don't need the notes anymore. That's freeing.

In the 26 and a half years I've lived in Japan, the average younger housewife (in her 20's and 30's) has grown completely dependent on convenience foods and processed ingredients. Many young women today cannot cook to save their souls, and are hunting for a man who can afford to take them out to dinner each night OR able to cook decently himself, for the two of them. The housewives I used to teach are all grammas now, and many, widows. They shake their heads at the younger generation... who aren't quite so savvy in the kitchen anymore. Cooking from scratch is an art that may be nearing extinction, if we aren't careful to pass it on to future cooks. I am truly grateful I as converted before it was too late!

All Settled In

2008-10-08T18:45:00.011+09:00

Today was momentous. First off, my husband dedicated the entire morning to cleaning around the house and getting ready for the delivery of the new fridge. I had a class and had to be out from 10am to 12pm. When I got back, I hardly recognized our front hall and living room. My husband outdid himself!

For two months, there had been a growing pile of empty boxes and bags of recyclables cluttering up the entryway of our home. He was too busy to deal with it, so the pile just kept growing, and I kept waiting for him to deal with it, rather than just haul the stuff down our 18 front steps myself. I guess he was imagining the delivery guys, trying to manuever through all that clutter, carrying a heavy piece of electrical equipment, and decided to finally tackle cleaning out the entry. That, in itself, was a major tangent blessing of this situation.

Then, he must have been inspired to do some cleaning in the living room - - the like we haven't seen for six months (since our son came for a ten-day visit in March)! You are getting the picture, right? It's true: I am not the world's most enthusiastic housekeeper...I freely admit it! We usually don't clean unless there is a major event or guest due to arrive. Otherwise, we just make do, & vacuum or dust occasionally, but not regularly. Well, some stuff was moved off surfaces they've been sitting on so long we forgot what was underneath, and any number of "situations" were finally dealt with and resolved. And just in time! I had some friends over to play Dominoes in the afternoon, and the house looked very nice for it. Phew!!

Here are the photos I've been promising for a while:

The old fridge, sitting in the room off the kitchen.

The mini shop fridge is on the left, and on the right, the new present from my son. Not much difference in size (the shop fridge was 82 liters in size, and the new fridge has 112 liters, but as you can see, it is a similar kettle of fish). We finally decided to just keep the shop fridge in the spare room off the kitchen and use them both in our daily lives. The new fridge is just spiffy! We are very happy with it! Thank you, dear son!

It's Official

2008-10-06T17:13:00.003+09:00

Okay, my husband has given the go-ahead: we're exchanging the old fridge for the new one on Wednesday morning, this week. I*can*hardly*wait!!! I'll post photos soon...

Did I Speak Too Soon?

2008-10-05T17:31:00.005+09:00

Well, that last post's announcement that the old fridge can still be used may be a false alarm. My husband (in his infinite mechanical wisdom) said, "We have to unplug it once, let it warm up again and then try plugging it in again. If it gets cold again without any problems, we're in the clear!"

So that's what we did. But after plugging it in the second time, it didn't chill, and the ominous cracking noises began again. Get me off this stupid polar cap! I want my new refrigerator, and I want to stop this ridiculous reporting back and forth about how we can or cannot keep our food from perishing! Please tell me a resolution is imminent!

Refrigerator Resurrection!

2008-10-04T18:20:00.003+09:00

My husband came home from a week long business trip in Kyushu, and finally had a chance to look over the old refrigerator this morning. He took some of the motor apart and put it back together again. When he plugged it in, immediately there was life in the old girl and within an hour the entire inner fridge was cold again. Go figure! I guess some connections had loosened and the usual vibrations (and jostling from slamming the door shut or earthquakes, etc) had caused the breakdown.

We ran it all day and the freezer produced ice within an hour or two. The vegetable bin was fine, the meat drawer's temperature, perfect. (We tested each section with a thermometer!) We can still use it. We will! But what a shock, after all this angst!

My initial thought was dismay--what are we going to say to our son??? But of course, I was glad to have the old fridge able to work again. And even if it means using his gift fridge as a spare (very handy when chilling a large pan of jello for a church pot luck), or replacing the decrepit little fridge with the gift one for use in the shop, it'll be utilized--no worries there. Still, I am sorry to have to let our boy know his rescue offered in love and the best of intentions was just a tad premature.

"The Lord works all things for good." How true this is! I realized from this entire episode a number of lessons. One is, we buy too much in the first place; more than we honestly need. When forced to limit purchases to fit a much tighter space, I could and did, slashing away the excess mercilessly. This resulted in a natural diet, as the freezer had no place in which to store ice cream! Downsizing is economically advantageous! Especially since we're always struggling to pay the bills, having a smaller fridge helped me stay within our budget.

Another lesson was in the clearing out of well over 50 partially opened jars & containers of pickles, curry sauce, jam, pesto, kimchi, mustard, tartar sauce, salad dressing, crystalized honey, marmalade, apple sauce, yogurt starter, chocolate sauce...well, the list goes on and on. They were largely untouched for days, months, even years in some cases. Many foods well past their expiration dates were saved from a vague guilty conviction that waste is a sin...but I've come to see that hanging on to stuff forever, and filling up your fridge with these space hoggers that can never be disposed of (but will never be eaten either) is just as sinful, if not downright stupid! It took the temporary breakdown of our fridge to help me finally clean it out, and start fresh, after 16 years! Talk about a life lesson!

It'll be interesting to see how the next couple of days go. The new fridge is supposed to come sometime tomorrow. We won't be having them take the old fridge away, so I hope my son will be refunded the 5,000 yen they were going to charge him for its removal. My poor son! How in the world will I break this news to him?

The Continuing Saga of Our Refrigerator

2008-10-03T15:53:00.003+09:00

Yesterday my son called me on Skype. It was good to talk, and I was surprised when he announced that on Sunday our new refrigerator would be delivered. "Merry Christmas, Mom!" I spluttered, "I b-b-beg your pardon?" He blithely went on to say he'd gone ahead and ordered us a new fridge online and asked them to deliver it on Sunday.

I guess when I'd told him about the freezer in the old fridge finally conking out, he took it as an S.O.S. ! That sure wasn't my intention, but he's a nice fellow and wanted to help us out--especially after having offered to do so before. (See post from Sept. 20th) I hadn't meant to pressure him into going ahead at this time, and if I'd realized his intentions, would have stopped him from picking out a fridge without my husband's input (knowing how much he'd want to offer input into such a decision). But anyway, it's already bought and will be coming in another 48 hours!

Wow! What a wonderful surprise! I've been released from the hardship of downsizing one household's perishables into a mini fridge suitably sized for a tree house! I wonder how big it'll be, and how the inside will look. It's sort of a weird experience, to have someone buy you a major electrical appliance, without having the chance to see it beforehand. How often does that sort of thing happen!?!

All I know is, it's gotta be an improvement on the current fridge and for that I'm eternally grateful! I'll post the photo of it after it's installed. Stay tuned!

The Sound of the Polar Cap Melting...

2008-09-27T10:32:00.005+09:00

I've explained about my current refrigerator situation: our 16 year old fridge began to break down, forcing us to bring up the dinky two door fridge from our shop, and downsize our perishables pronto! But we could still use the freezer in the old fridge as a partial freezer / refrigerator. It would still make ice cubes once in a while, although they seemed to be very slowly melting.

But in the past two days, there has been an ominous cracking noise coming from the old fridge. It kept making me think of the Polar Cap, cracking in spring as the warm air begins to blow. I wondered if it was the freezer...and felt a sense of foreboding.

This morning I went to get an ice cube, and found only an inch of cold water in the ice cube drawer. Ah, so it's true...even the freezer section has decided to conk on us now. The jars of half-used jam, pickles, and other condiments are going to have to be tossed at last. The partially frozen blueberries (now completely thawed) will need to be eaten with yogurt forthwith!! My husband just left on a weeklong business trip, so I must deal with this by myself. And still the cracking continues--about one snap every minute or two.

Should I pull the plug on the old fridge??? I hate having to deal with stuff like this alone, sigh.

UPDATE 9/28/08: Last night I double-checked again and everything was growing warm in the freezer compartment. I went ahead and unplugged it. Now I have until Friday evening to slowly and methodically dispose of everything that was still in the old fridge before my husband comes back from his business trip. Go, Sal, go!!

Living Alone...?

2008-09-22T21:53:00.002+09:00

There are many different stages in marriage; my husband and I have shared a lot of trials and triumphs, mountains and valleys, highs and lows, times of light and times of shadow. But in the past ten years we have experienced the greatest success so far in our life together, and have found a kind of balance that minimizes stress and increases our sense of cooperation toward the greater good. I'm proud of us, frankly. We have stuck it out and we have survived.

This summer was difficult for us, though. It was so hot, for one thing. And my husband was very, very busy with all his many endeavors (working three or four jobs to make ends meet) and seldom home. I had to get used to being alone most of the time. He would leave the house at a very early hour and not come home again till late at night, or be away on business for days at a stretch. The notations on the family calendar was our only "conversation"--where was he today? I couldn't ask him personally, so I'd check his chicken scratch notes and say a prayer for his safety.

On Saturday evening (9/20) we actually ate supper together. This was our first shared meal (just the two of us) since July 27th, when we went out for lunch to celebrate my birthday a day early. Over 50 days we couldn't enjoy the luxury of sharing conversation over a meal! And we aren't big talkers, either. He almost always has the TV on while we're eating. But still, it is nice to have the chance to exchange info, news, tidbits of stories of what's happened that day/ week/ month...etc. Without a meal together, it is almost impossible to nab his attention long enough to have him actually hear what I say. So I was mighty grateful for that meal. I think we both felt happy to have some time together again.

We have to make sacrifices in order to pay some bills; we have to bear difficult circumstances in order to appreciate the simplest pleasures in life. But living alone...? I think I've had more than my share of that lately!! May October be a little better...please, God.

And Finally Comes...Calm Acceptance

2008-09-20T10:21:00.002+09:00

This is an update for all of you out there just dying to know what's going on with my defunct refrigerator. Actually, I'm much calmer now, and able to live with this situation a while longer.

What happened to help bring this about?? I talked with my son on Skype the other day and he immediately (upon hearing my refrigerator woes) goes online and finds a new full size two door that can be shipped to my house for free for only 29,000 yen! He offered to buy it for us and send it off right then and there. But I told him, "Let's wait till Christmas and see if Dad can fix the old one like he wants to. If it doesn't happen, please get it for us for Christmas. OK?" And he understood.

Just having an escape hatch made the whole thing much more bearable. Just knowing my son was willing and eager to row up in a life raft, helped strengthen me to keep on treading water a little longer.

And I had a chance to talk to my husband a little this morning, and asked him if he could rig some sort of stand upon which we might set the tiny fridge, to make it easier to use. The main door opens around my knees. I literally cannot see what the heck is even in there! So he said he would, and now I am even calmer and more able to cope.

Yes, I'm calmer now. And thankful, to boot.

Think What 100 Years Can Accomplish

2008-09-17T20:03:00.005+09:00

This was forwarded to me in a typical mass emailing (which I generally hate). But I found it interesting and thought you might, too, if you hadn't already received it in your Inbox.

Some statistics from the year 1908, one hundred years ago:

The average life expectancy was 47 years.

Only 14 percent of the homes had a bathtub.

Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone.

There were only 8,000 cars and only 144 miles of paved roads in all America.

The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph.

The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower!

The average wage in 1908 was 22 cents per hour.

The average worker made between $200 and $400 per year!

A competent accountant could expect to earn $2000 per year, A dentist $2,500 per year, a veterinarian between $1,500 and $4,000 per year, and a mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year.

More than 95 percent of all births took place at HOME. (Now, that didn't surprise me.)

Ninety percent of all doctors had NO COLLEGE EDUCATION! (But that did!)

Instead, they either 'apprenticed' under a practicing doctor (who had done the same) or they attended unaccredited medical schools, many of which were condemned in the press and the government as 'substandard. '

Sugar cost four cents a pound.

Eggs were fourteen cents a dozen.

Coffee was fifteen cents a pound.

Most women only washed their hair once a month, and used Borax or egg yolks for shampoo. (Gak!)

Canada passed a law that prohibited poor people from entering into their country for any reason.

Five leading causes of death were:

1. Pneumonia and influenza
2. Tuberculosis
3. Diarrhea
4. Heart disease
5. Stroke

Now, the #1 overall leading cause of death (statistically) is medical care, which includes hospital mistakes, doctor's mistakes/malpractice and adverse drug events (side effects from prescriptions), followed by Heart Disease and Cancer.

In 1908 the American flag had only 45 stars.

The total population of Las Vegas , Nevada was 30 people! (This one is a hoot!)

Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and ice tea hadn't been invented yet. (As an ardent puzzle fan, this was unexpected.)

There was no Mother's Day or Father's Day. (I wonder when those began??)

Two out of every 10 adult Americans couldn't read or write. (Sobering. What are the current statistics, anyone know?)

Only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated from high school (94% had less than a high school education)!

Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at the local corner drugstores. Back then pharmacists said, 'Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind,regulates the stomach and bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health.' (Whoa, Nelly!)

Eighteen percent of households had at least one full-time servant or domestic help, usually a black person.

There were about 230 reported murders in the ENTIRE U.S.A. (not just in one square mile of Washington, DC) !

Imagine what life will be like a hundred years from now!

IT STAGGERS THE MIND!!!

Living Tombstones

2008-09-13T10:21:00.005+09:00

With the recent release of a Japanese film, "Okuribito," that's been acknowledged by many countries (about an undertaker and his wife), many of my students and I have been discussing death, funerals, undertakers and burial customs lately.

My husband and I are not sentimental about our own deaths and have only the desire that no one go to any expense (beyond cremation costs) in dealing with the disposal of our dead bodies. I used to think if my friends wanted to gather to have a party celebrating my life, that'd be cool, but even that notion has gradually faded in recent years. In Japan ashes and bone fragments are given to the surviving family members, who store them in family graveyard plots. As we have no intention of participating in such a custom, we hope our son will scatter our ashes in the earth of a forest, or mountainside; as the saying goes: ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

My parents want to donate their bodies to science and have already made arrangements to that end. My middle brother is the family genealogist and has a very different view. He doesn't want to be cremated, but rather favors burial, believing in the importance of grave markers--as I understand it--leaving a tangible and traceable testimony of one's life for future generations.

I believe in leaving evidence of the impact of my life in the people around me; my students, my son, my friends, my church and my extended family.

Perhaps I feel this way because I take after my dad so much. I got his coloring, bone structure, ear for harmony and schnozz (nose). He passed on his addictions to me: cold soft drinks & ice cream, ratpacking, editing newsletters and handwriting letters. I was always Daddy's Girl and he was my hero, comrade, playmate and refuge from older brothers who picked on me. He influenced me musically, artistically, socially and professionally; his example in charity, community service, and international tolerance and understanding are the foundation blocks of my life in Japan.

I am my father's living tombstone. And some of you out there are mine.

Non-Refrigerated Update

2008-09-10T10:07:00.008+09:00

It has been one week since we began living with our refrigerated goods spread out between two fridges, neither very well equipped to handle our dietary lifestyle.

You would be surprised how much the refrigerator influences one's desire to:
1. eat
2. cook
3. stay abreast of what food you have on hand
4. shop for food
5. open new packages of food.

I'm not talking about a positive influence, in our case. Quite the opposite.

I can't just open one door & survey what there is on hand in order to plan dinner. I have to run back and forth between two rooms, and can't remember which thing is in which freezer, and does that mean it's frozen, partially frozen, or only chilled? How distracting! It definitely dampens one's appetite.

Cooking even a simple cheese omelet has become a pain. Forget trying to make a meat and veggie sauté...I hate having to paw through piles of stuff crammed into the bottom of the little fridge to try and locate vegetables. My motivation to cook is weak at best; the current situation strangles it to death.

Opening the little fridge requires sitting down in front of it, and even then I can't see what's on the shelves. (The shelves are about the size of a shoebox. I am NOT exaggerating!) This thing needs to be hoisted up on stilts to be convenient to use!

I used to love sitting and filling out my co-op order for our weekly food delivery. It was relaxing. I could plan menus and buy things on sale, because I had plenty of freezer space in which to store frozen meat, etc. Now it is a cause of great anxiety and frustration. I'm afraid to buy a package of eggs, as there is only space for 6 to fit in the current fridge door, and we have to put the other 4 into a bowl, which takes up too much space. I can't buy any ice cream; no space in that inefficient mini freezer. Arrrrggggghhhh!!!! (Those who know me can well understand the withdrawal symptoms I'm experiencing by not having a daily fix of ice cream!)

There aren't ice cubes anymore. There isn't an unlimited supply of water bottles chilled or frozen, ready to take with us in our cars on hot days. Did you know I drink six 500ml bottles of chilled water a day, on average? Sometimes more. I can't open a big bottle of juice (even to transfer part of it to a smaller bottle--where would I store the big, opened bottle in the meantime? I feel like I'm in a straitjacket...... no...... freedom........ grrrggghhhhuulllll.....

Seven days and no light at the end of the tunnel. My husband is working hard (and late) every day and can't try messing around searching for that burned out fuse yet...I'm afraid to even suggest it. (Last time I did, he bit my head off and took a two-hour nap...sigh.)

I'd better start adjusting to this soon. 'Cause I'm not going to last till Christmas at this rate.

RESPECT

2008-09-09T15:52:00.002+09:00

I just finished watching an old film, "The Next Karate Kid." I taped it off the movie channel and made myself a copy to keep, and was waiting around to hear if my son wanted a copy made for him, too, before erasing it from the HDD. This film was made in 1994 and starred Hilary Swank, who was a young-looking 20 yr. old, playing a rebellious high schooler. In the film, Mr. Miyagi (played by Pat Morita) teaches her to respect every living thing, including cockroaches.

I thought it ironic that point would be made in the film because I had just talked about cockroaches with my friends last Saturday, when one was found in her home while I was visiting. I remember saying I didn't know what purpose they fulfilled in God's plan; why would He create such a loathsome insect??

But after watching that film, I remembered how in my childhood, I had been deathly afraid of spiders. If one was discovered in my room, I wouldn't be able to sleep until my dad had come in and killed it for me, as I was too terrified to get anywhere near it! Once when my dad wasn't home, I asked my eldest brother to kill a spider in my room instead. He flatly refused, saying he didn't believe in killing (with a much larger meaning--he was a conscientious objector during the Vietnam War, too). I don't remember what I did after he wouldn't help me; maybe I forced myself to kill it.

Anyway, flash forward to my adulthood and discovering spiders in my home here in Japan. I don't know how it came about, but I wasn't afraid of them anymore. In fact, I had learned that spiders are a homeowner's friend, eating small insects around the house, so I began to address the spiders I'd find here and there with a salute and, "Yoroshiku!" (which roughly translated means, 'I leave it to you to take care of small insects in our home, please.') Gradually this sense of respect for the work of spiders (for my own benefit) has transferred to many insects or creepy crawlers found in nature. They have their own part in the Master Plan of life. Who am I to say they don't?

But somehow, I have had a hard time accepting the "part" of cockroaches in any plan that includes me. Yet, progress has been made, in the sense that now I can say to the cockroaches inevitably living under furniture, in the dark recesses of my home, "Okay, you guys; we can live in the same house on ONE condition. You come out only when I'm not around, or awake...OK??! You show your face, and I'll be forced to try to kill you. I'm just being honest, here; it's in your own best interest not to meet me in person."

Mr. Miyagi might not agree, but it is as close to respect as I can get regarding cockroaches.

Refrigerator Blues

2008-09-05T14:08:00.003+09:00

Earlier this week our refrigerator decided to stop chilling the main compartment. The freezer dropped its power output a notch or two (despite having the dial turned to COLDEST) and the veggie drawer seemed warmer than usual (it's never all that cold to begin with), too.

The weather was hot and humid, and I felt panicky. I knew we didn't have any money with which to buy a new fridge, but you can't just let everything spoil, and live without one, either! Fortunately we have a small 2-door in our shop downstairs, so my husband brought it up to our apartment, and we are now making do, with everything spread out in either the little fridge or the freezer compartment of the old one. The big 3-door is in my son's room (which we use as a spare guest room now, or storeroom as the need arises). The dinky fridge is in the big space built into our system kitchen. It looks very funny there, almost level with the counter beside it!

Recently my husband is talking about going into the back of the big fridge and finding the blown fuse; if successful, he can try to buy a new fuse and replace it. Then, with some heavenly intervention (please, God!), perhaps this 3-door will revive and cool again! We've had the thing sixteen years now, but there is no reason to run out and get a new one if this one can be fixed.

My new friend (see last post for details) suggested going to a recycle shop and buying a used fridge for less. This is a real option if the fuse replacement doesn't work. One thing is for sure: life without a decent way to store food is one enormous hassle and worry. I ate a number of questionable items in the past few days that may have gone a little 'funny' during the period of time when we didn't even realize the fridge was on the blink. I know at least two days went by when I felt surprised that the water stored in the door was less than refreshingly chilled. Call me dense...that's fair. By Day Three it sunk in and we took action. So some foodstuff was a little worse for the wear...ugh.

How easy it is to take the conveniences of life for granted! I've had plenty of time to reflect on that this past week, while I've been singing the Refrigerator Blues.

A New Friend

2008-08-29T22:29:00.004+09:00

I've mentioned Mixi, the Japanese social networking system (a little like Facebook...a lot safer than MySpace) before on this blog, and recently I was tickled when an Australian woman contacted me suddenly on Mixi and we began corresponding.

She lives in Kyushu, the southwestern island of Japan, whereas I am located in the middle of Honshu (the longest island), so we live quite far apart and have no hope of ever meeting face to face. But I have had such fun "talking" with her. She and I both write these Olympic-sized epistles to each other just about everyday. She is 13 years my junior and her kids are still at the stage where they can have fun as an entire family during summer vacation. She 'gets' my humor and she tickles my funny bone, too.

There is definitely a honeymoon stage in a new friendship. We breathlessly wait for the other's reply and can't answer it soon enough. I'm a sucker for that stage; it makes my heart sing and spirit soar! I feel important to someone new; it renews my faith in my worthiness as a person to get to know. Sometimes in this mad exchange of personal anecdotes and revealing one's secrets it's possible to go too far and learn something we don't like so much, something that puts just the slightest damper on the bloom of happiness. But this hasn't happened with my Aussie friend, I'm happy to say...not yet, anyway...

I'm going to believe the best and continue to share with her and I hope in time we can become the kind of friends that endure through time and space. I have a lot of relationships like that, and I'm blessed and grateful for them.

If you are one of those people, and you are reading my blog today, drop me a line. People just don't comment enough on this confounded blog!!!!!

Just Call Me "Oya Baka" Again

2008-08-25T11:09:00.003+09:00

[Oya= parent, baka= fool] Forewarning: Proud Mama is going to do some bragging here...

One of the things I've been so proud of while watching my son establish his independence from us and live on his own in LA, is how he has set certain goals for himself each year, and has managed to fulfill those goals within the set time limit.

In the beginning the goals were straightforward and relatively simple: get a cell phone, get an apartment, get a job. But they weren't simple to obtain. Without a California driver's license, it was next to impossible to get a phone; without a phone it was impossible to get an apartment; and without a place to live it was very hard to fill out job applications. Everyone treated him as though he were an illegal immigrant, despite having American citizenship. The average kid would've taken the last of his money and hightailed it home to Japan. But my son stuck it out. And got the phone, at long last, soon to be followed by a place to live and a job to boot. We know God was in his corner, and we're grateful. But I also know my son himself exhibited a lot of guts and determination and it's paid off.

His next goal was to get a job in Beverly Hills at a high-class restaurant, because he had heard that's where you get the good tips. He had been working in a less prestigious Japanese restaurant the first five months of 2007 and felt like he was only spinning his wheels there. He had a number of things he wanted to purchase eventually and needed a better income. So he set out to get a job in a fancy Japanese restaurant in Beverly Hills. He had to enter the staff as kitchen help, but has worked his way up to server, gradually excelling in each job he did on the way. I really have to take off my hat to him. He's proven to be a very hard worker. (His father's boy!!)

Recently his boss acknowledged his hard work by asking him to serve exclusively in the sushi bar corner (where sales are lagging) because his boss is hoping that having a bilingual, top-notch service provider will increase the popularity of that corner. This was an honor and my son was smart enough to recognize it! Since his tip income would initially decrease as a result of this change in his duties, his boss was willing to supplement his income with guaranteed salary, paid out of his boss' pocket! What greater compliment could an employee want?!

There have been a lot of small goals in between...especially in the purchasing of this and that on eBay or some other net auction service, and he has acquired a lot of the equipment he needs to begin producing music in his apartment (which is his ultimate goal and why he moved to LA in the first place). He's been there less than two years and has accomplished so much!

Keep it up, Honey! You can do it! And there's nothing foolish about my believing that, at all.

The Foreign Buyers Club (FBC)

2008-08-22T17:33:00.006+09:00

One of the reasons I have lived so happily in a foreign land for half of my life is the existance of a food import business based in Kobe, Japan called the Foreign Buyers Club. Originally a group of friends who wanted to order large chunks of cheese, wholesale (therefore less expensive) to divide up among themselves, the current FBC has evolved from that original group gradually growing to a membership in the tens of thousands. My member's ID no. is 217, which tells you how long I've been relying on them (almost 20 years)!

Many years ago, after FBC had expanded to include breakfast cereals in their selection of goods, I was a little hard pressed to order an entire case of Quaker Life cereal and I didn't have anyone living near me who wanted to divide up the case (usually 12 boxes) with me . I mentioned this to Chuck, the man who founded FBC and continues to run the company, and he generously offered to buy half the case with me, enabling us to enjoy Life Cereal for a few months one year. This kind of personal attention to members' problems or concerns has always attracted me to continue giving them my business. Despite enormous growth in the past fifteen years, the people who man the phones and computers are still as nice as pie and willing to go that extra mile for you.

They first had a mimeographed catalog they sent out to everyone, with only the names of the types of cheeses listed on a few pages. But today there are three colorful, photo-packed catalogs sent annually to each member: The General Store (where you can order cases of stuff as well as individual boxes or units from the states to be shipped to you within a month of ordering), The Deli (which hooks you up to items already imported into Japan that FBC gathers for you and delivers to your door within a week) and The Learning Center (filled with teaching materials and children's DVDs, box games, books and craft items as well as a number of magazines and books for 'grownups').

There is a reasonable shipping charge added to the total order, and a low annual members' fee guarantees you keep up-to-date with their newletters and special offers. Personally, I try to order only when there is a free shipping deal offered.

In addition to everything listed in the catalogs, you can find thousands more on their websites (one in English, the other in Japanese) and if you call the office, they have an even larger data base from which to order. All you have to do is give a bar code, or explain about a product you saw in a magazine, etc and the helpful staff will hunt the items down like bloodhounds. They have expanded over time and have an LA office now and an express service (in which you can order stuff from the states and get it delivered to your door within a week for a higher postage charge).

I can't say enough good things about it. Thanks to FBC, I can continue to bake cakes for my students' birthdays, take in jello desserts, brownies and a pot of chili to church potlucks, open a can of decent vegetable soup for lunch on a day I'm too tired to whip up anything else, and try foods from all over the world. I've enjoyed potpies from Australia as well as shortbread from England. We can buy chicken legs from Denmark or lamb chops from New Zealand. FBC was the source I turned to every time I baked a turkey for Thanksgiving, when my son was young, and I can honestly say I can no longer live without them!!

Thanks, Chuck, Ryohey and all the rest of you great folk on FBC's staff! I love y'all!!!

I'm a Communication Junkie

2008-08-20T09:13:00.006+09:00

In high school I had the notion that I wanted to become a disc jockey for WGN Radio in Chicago, because I listened to the late night radio programs and loved the quiet, moody feel to the DJs' voices. When I went to college, I entered the Speech Communications department, because it contained the Mass Communications program, which my vocations counselor advised me to pursue. I blithely took Mass Communications 101 (or some such beginner's course) and had a rude awakening when every student was forced to read five newspapers and ten magazines a week, listen to tons of broadcasts and give massive reports about all this stuff I had no interest in whatsoever. I quickly changed to a Speech Communications major and thus, discovered my one great love: the art of communication.

I had no idea at the time that a speech communications major didn't really prepare a person for any sort of career, and I would be forced to attend graduate school in order to develop my own marketable specialty. But the good news is, studying speech communications helped prepare me for my life in Japan far more than almost any other major would have (except teaching English as a second language, of course). I have fallen back on the tenets of significant communication exchange time and again in my marriage (to a man who stopped using English to communicate with me the moment we got married). And I have used the basics of group communication in my classes over and over.

With the birth of cyberspace, communications developed yet another avenue in which to pursue relationships. I heard about chat rooms long before I ever ended up "chatting" with strangers on Skype, and email became more important to me when money for postage stamps was a luxury I couldn't often afford. But whatever the means to the end, that end is the same--the development and maintenance of relationships through communication exchange. My one great love in life.

I confess it here and now. I am a communication junkie. Nothing thrills me more than an email from family or friends. I'm delighted beyond belief when someone feels compelled to write a comment on my Mixi diary or this blog's post. Communication is the affirmation of our existence! We live! We love others! They love us back! Communication is a celebration of LIFE!

A Good Time Was Had By All

2008-08-18T09:52:00.007+09:00

My inlaws held a family reunion yesterday so we could meet our nephew's new bride. She's a lovely person, and I was happy she was an excellent English speaker! That takes a lot of pressure off me, as I can be more myself with someone I am just getting to know.

We had an incredible spread of great food. Sushi, salad, tempura, veggie dishes my mother-in-law made, and lovely cut fruit for dessert. I provided the brownies and snacks for later; my husband brought the French champagne! We all pigged out and talked a mile a minute. I was glad I had brought the Dominoes, because we had a nice game of Mexican Train in the afternoon.

All told, a very enjoyable time with the people I love best in Japan.

The Jealous Type

2008-08-15T17:13:00.008+09:00

The Master's Lap is MINE

All tuckered out

Asia is the name of my son's cat. He adopted this cat when he was living with some housemates who didn't take the greatest care of her. He loves animals and was very drawn to caring for Asia. By the time he decided to move out and off on his own, the housemates had already gotten a new puppy and were rather relieved, I think, that he wanted to take her with him.

Looking is all she can do anymore

Asia is very territorial. Not just of the prime places to sleep in their apartment, or of her food dish, etc. but of my son! Whenever he is talking on the phone, she invariably tries to get in the way and disrupt the call. Since we are in very different time zones, we often end up talking in the wee hours of his morning, after he gets home from work and Asia is ready to settle down for a sleep after eating. She knows when the caller is a woman, and that is the time she makes the greatest effort to be naughty (to distract him from the call), or to hop up on the desk and walk back and forth in front of him, whipping her tail up in his face, to discourage him speaking into the receiver.

My son and I use Skype much of the time to communicate, so he sits in front of the camera/mike attached to the computer. It never fails that Asia will come and rub up against the mike, causing a loud eruption of feedback. He used to say, "Say hi to Asia, Mom" and I would knock myself out trying to sweet talk that cat, who would in turn just get more perturbed that her master was talking with another female. So I finally gave up.

Please let me out!

Ah, the Great Outdoors...

Asia used to live outside much of the time. She had my son trained to get up at five and let her out, or in, or feed her, or whatever, and when they moved, it was to an apartment on the fourth floor. No more going outside. This caused not a little stress for Asia, I'm sure. He was able to catch her peeping out the windows longingly more than once, and I'll share those shots with you here. She's a really fat cat, so the folds of her stomach hang down when she gets up on her hind legs; it's really funny and cute.

The Next Generation

2008-08-14T23:06:00.004+09:00

I enjoy family traditions. I had a number of them in my own childhood that defined a sense of security and order in the year's events. Family vacations in the station wagon. Thanksgiving dinners held up at Grammy's in Wauwatosa. Opening Christmas stockings after church and dessert on Christmas Eve. Playing games together as a family on Sunday afternoons.

After moving to Japan and marrying my husband, I had a new family to fit into, and new traditions to be maintained. The most consistent one has been The Gathering of the Clan at Gramma's house in Nagoya. My mother-in-law is Gramma, and she and Grampa have been wonderful hosts time and again for our family reunions.

This coming Sunday, there will be another such gathering at Gramma's in Nagoya. We are all getting together to meet my nephew's new bride. They live in Tokyo and aren't able to join these reunions very often (in the ten years they've known each other before tying the knot), so the entire gang will come (all except my son, who lives in LA). I am very psyched about this!

There will be my parents-in-law (2), their three children (the eldest son is my husband) and spouses (+6), and all their children (except my son, so +5) and spouses (+3, 'cause only three are still single) and the great-grandchildren, too (another 3)! The span in ages will be 6mos to 84yrs!! Nineteen people in all! (All in that tiny living/ diingroom????) Well, it should be an interesting experience.

I plan on taking my camera and snapping away, when we aren't eating sushi, my mother- and sister-in-law's great dishes, or playing games (which is MY contribution to the family's traditions through the years, along with a big pan of homebaked brownies). It has been nearly four years since I've seen my nephew. He's a successful adman in Tokyo and is too busy to travel to Nagoya much. He's the apple of everyone's eye, so we are all eager to meet his new wife, too. I hear she is able to speak English, so I hope she won't be too shy to try out her skills on me.

If any of the photos are blog worthy, I'll post them later on!

Colorblind

2008-08-13T12:39:00.007+09:00

My father is colorblind. He had trouble discerning the differences between red and green. As he was an artististic man, I would assume this condition was a cross to bear, but he never complained. He was a great sketcher, and did excellent charcoal or pencil drawings.

He gave me these sketches he made in later years.

His lettering was also the thing of legends. He was asked to make signs and posters galore in his prime. His color blindness was genetic, so as his daughter the carrier X chromosome was passed on to me, but fortunately, my son was unaffected.

I love color and have always loved rainbows, stained glass windows, flower gardens, gemstones, and the satisfaction a new box of 64 Crayolas gave me! But lately I am experiencing a kind of color blindness every time I sit in front of the computer. My monitor is rather old, and the color red looks black most of the time. Every once in a while the true colors come back on and I can even play a game of Solitaire again. But much of the time, I am learning how to tolerate a rather drab world, perhaps much akin to the one my father has lived in all his life.

Twenty-four years and counting...

2008-08-10T22:57:00.002+09:00

Today is my husband's and my 24th wedding anniversary. As he is Japanese, and I am American, we are veterans in the world of international marriage. Considering how very different our native cultures are (opposite, in fact), it is more than a little amazing we have stayed together this long and are in as healthy a place as a couple as we are today.

Any marriage involves compromise, but international marriage requires an incredible amount of it--on both sides. My husband is a very tolerant person and puts up with a fussy, demanding wife, just as I am an extremely dedicated communicator with a spouse who rarely puts his thoughts into words. We both have to try very hard and we both go the extra mile. I could never continue on without my faith, just as my husband could never continue on without a beer at the end of the day!

Today, he was out of town, arriving home around 8 p.m. Today I was busy out all day; at church with worship, choir practice and a women's group mtg, and after that, at a class before heading home by 7 p.m. My husband said around 8:20, 'Oh today is our anniversary, isn't it?' and I said, 'Yes, that's right.' Neither one of us said, "Happy Anniversary!" but I don't mind. It's taken a lot of years of compromise for me to be able to say that honestly. My own parents celebrated their anniversary with great traditions eating out, always with a mystery couple my father arranged beforehand, and presents exchanged. My father inevitably bought flowers for her every year. I went into my marriage expecting my husband to act in a similar way. When he didn't I had a hard time accepting that. But I've changed a lot. And he has, too.

My Christmas, birthday and anniversary gifts from my husband are a willingness to work hard to support our family 24/7, and to cook for me when I don't want to face my kitchen, even after a hard day's work. He does laundry (though far below my standards...) and even vacuums sometimes. I cannot complain. He shows me love in his actions every day, although never with fanfare or expecting thanks or praise.

You can't wrap that with a ribbon, now, can you??

What a show!!

2008-08-09T12:46:00.016+09:00

Since Japan is only about an hour ahead of China, the 29th Olympiad Opening Ceremony held last night was televised live in Japan, starting at around 9 p.m. It went till after 1 a.m., so I am a little sleepy today!

As opening ceremonies go, in which the host country treats the world to a taste of their culture, music and very essence, Beijing's entertainment was really breathtaking. You got a real sense of the rich and varied heritage represented in their many races, and developed through the history of civilization. The sheer numbers used in the mass demonstration of drums' grace and beauty in the first number was mind-boggling, not to mention a miraculous show of organization and preparation. And if you can believe it, all those hundreds of men had identical haircuts!

I didn't take notes, or I would comment on everything, but I enjoyed these particular highlights:

*The perfect formation of a filled-in circle (created by LED-covered-costumed adults), with the children in the center painting a green world to entice the birds back, and the birds responding to the call;

*the globe being circled by acrobatic runners, dangling on wires (attached to what, I have no idea!);

*the beautifully colorful, fairy-like flying individuals, also suspended on wires of no known origin, bobbing around like fireflies.

*I loved the Chinese characters for 'peace' (first ancient, then its more modern counterpart) formed by the individual keys of kanji (manned by one human each), again, miraculously timed and in sync with each other.

*They broke the bank in their use of fireworks; frankly it was a little overkill by the end, as I was distracted by how much pollution the fireworks' smoke was creating, and couldn't fully enjoy the beauty of it.

To say it was an elaborate show doesn't do the entertainment justice; there were traditional folk costumes and interesting modernistic costumes, too--all using a full palette of color. Traditional Chinese musical instruments played Chinese compositions as well as more familiar orchestral arrangements. You could sense the national pride of each participant, overjoyed to have this opportunity to shine for the world. I came away from the night's entertainment with a greater respect for The People's Republic of China, due to an elevated recognition of The People, themselves. Not a communistic government, clumped into a division of political systems, but rather a keener view of the faces of the largest national population in the world. It was a privilege to watch.

Thank you Beijing. What a show!!!!

Asleep in the Stands

2008-08-05T13:42:00.006+09:00

I'm a great baseball fan; always was, from elementary school days following the Cubbies, till now, with my current love affair with Ichiro. (It never fails to irk me that he plays on a team that generally ends up in last place in the American League; sigh.)

Some years I've been glued to the set most mornings, when the night games are televised in Japan, or have set the timer to the VCR, to enjoy a game later on, at my leisure. But in recent years, I haven't had as much fever when it comes to baseball...and I usually forget to even check the TV Guide to see who is playing whom and when the game'll be on. I feel like I'm asleep in the stands!

I root for the teams with Japanese players on them, as a rule; I am fiercely proud Ichiro hails from the area in which we live, only about three towns away. You can't blame me for this. I watch Japanese news, sports and weather every day, and people are always influenced by the media. I see interviews of prominent sports figures and learn to love them, just as the Japanese do. So it's totally natural for me to root for the Japanese Olympic athletes and have no sense of identification with American athletes I have never heard of or see very little of.

But in MLB, my favorite Japanese players are playing with American baseball players, so I have gotten to know and love a lot of the guys on the Mariners, Yankees, & Red Sox teams. I'm also familiar with a number of players on other American League teams they are constantly up against. (I haven't followed the National League since my youth cheering for the Cubs, so I tend to ignore even the NL teams with Japanese players on them.)

This morning I remembered to check the MLB channel rather late, and tuned in to the Yankees'/Rangers' game just after the 7th inning stretch. I thought I'd heard the announcer wrong when he referred to the Yankees' catcher as Pudge. That's the Tigers' catcher, I thought. Then, in the ninth inning, Pudge Rodriguez steps to the plate to bat for the Yankees...wait a minute...huh? When did he change uniforms???

The next batter gave me an even greater start...Richie Sexson (the no. 4 man on the Mariner's standard lineup), pitch hitting for the Yankees. Now, hold up... what is wrong with this picture??? When the heck did these guys get traded to the Yankees? And who got traded away in their places???

Sure enough, I've been asleep in the stands. It's time to start hanging out at MLB.com again!!!

The Four Seasons

2008-08-05T07:26:00.004+09:00

Growing up in Illinois, I experienced four fairly distinctly changing seasons. Winter was the most insistent, coming as early as late October and staying till April, but averaging five to six months of the year. Summer was next longest, solidly occupying the period from June to Labor Day, after which school began again. Spring and Fall were shorter, less predictable, and therefore very precious and desirable.

Which is why, when I moved to the central area of Honshu, Japan, I was so delighted to find that seasons changed rather predictably and evenly, spaced out about three months a piece, and each with its own characteristics that seemed very Japanese to me.

One reason for this is Japan's custom of NOT changing the clocks twice a year to create Daylight Savings Time. You feel the seasons more distinctly due to the changing hour of sunrise and sunset, of how early nature rises in the summer, along with the sun. For example, in summer, the song of the cicadas is really deafening in the early morning, growing more intrusive from dawn's light on, till it inevitably wakens me by 6 a.m. or so. Can you identify cicada song? If you live near any forests, you may know what I mean. I don't have a conscious memory of cicadas in Naperville, although my neighborhood had its share of trees. But maybe I've grown more sensitive to sound as an adult.

The Japanese word for cicada is semi. There is an imitation of their song in Japanese, too. It's like saying (do, re,) " mi, mi~, mi~~, mi, mi~, mi~~" although in my opinion it's awfully difficult to put into the words an accurate verbal representation of their song. (I use the phrase "song" rather loosely here; there isn't much of a melody because it is almost entirely percussion.) All I know is they are really noisy insects and will dominate the airwaves for nearly two months of summer. Only another five or six weeks to go...sigh.

The Technological Parade

2008-08-03T16:03:00.005+09:00

I live in Japan, the land of technology mania! There is almost always something new being advertised and promoted on TV and at your neighborhood electrical appliance store. The average Japanese person is acutely interested in whatever is the newest, fastest, sleekest, hippest, and most technologically advanced piece of equipment on the market.

My husband is no different, as far as interest goes, but he isn't willing to spend the kind of money needed to actually go out and buy it! So our home policy has always been, "Wait till the price goes way down before considering a purchase." This means that no matter what the equipment is, we wait a year or more before buying it. (Of course, by that time, a new model and a much more advanced version has been designed and is being promoted and sold, causing us to question if buying the older model is such a smart move at that point. Based on this repeating spiral, we end up eliminating 95% of the latest "must haves" on the market.)

So I simply do not get my expectations up at all. Period. I think, we'll never get it, so don't allow yourself to care. Digital cameras, wide-screen TVs, ADSL, a second computer for upstairs (the first one was for the shop, downstairs); you name it, EVERYONE else had one before we ever dreamed of getting one. We never bought a video camera. But I'd wager to bet that the family of nearly every single classmate of my son's had a video camera during the years of recitals, field day events, and all other memorable video-taking opportunities of his school days.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am NOT interested in material consumption of all the latest technology. I'm just saying that it is all around us, and being promoted at a feverish pace, and new technology is constantly being developed and advertised to the point where you just want to scream, "ENOUGH, already!!"

You can never win, anyway. As soon as you go out and get the latest, coolest cell phone, the iphone is invented. As soon as you buy one of those and master its many complexities (all promoted as conveniences, one cannot live without), there'll be something else, cooler and more complicated, making yours obsolete. There is no end to this madness. We can never keep up with not only the Joneses, but also with the Sonys, the Apples, the Panasonics and all their whiz kids dreaming up even more technology.

Yet, if we don't at least attempt to join in the Technological Parade, it is a lonely, alienating road to walk, alone and confused, unable to decipher the latest byword or catch phrase. Once the Parade marches on beyond you, out of sight, it is a frighteningly still and lifeless space you are left in to inhabit.

What's the Trouble?

2008-08-02T13:31:00.003+09:00

Maybe I should follow my son's advice and buy a new Mac to replace this computer. My computer seems to be stumbling around in Cyberland. Lately I am having trouble even accessing my own blog, let alone anyone else's. Have I fallen prey to a new virus? Have I set myself up to be invaded by someone's itazura (playing naughty tricks on me) by starting a blog and allowing the world to access my private thoughts? Is someone out there an enemy??

I really hate how paranoid one can sound when just trying to figure out what the trouble is. Sigh.

P.S.
A few days later...
It turns out that many blogs were mistakenly classified as spam, and possibly my own as well. This problem has been cleared up and now I'm able to access everything again, like normal.

Days with Dad

2008-07-30T12:14:00.016+09:00

My dad has Alzheimer's Disease. Though his body keeps hanging on, his mind has gone to the mysterious 'unknown' that usurped his memory. I am thinking a lot about my dad these days and I thought it might be nice to share some of the photos I have of him, taken through the years.

Basic Blog Training At SNS Boot Camp

2008-07-29T15:01:00.005+09:00

I began this blog after 19 months participation in Mixi, the Japanese counterpart of MySpace.com. In Mixi, you write a diary entry, post it, and within hours or days someone leaves a comment, which you can answer and post below theirs. Everyone frequently reads their "My Mixi" (the special group of close friends to the member) friends' diaries and if someone 'comes to call' at your top page, a "footprint" is left telling you who came. You can click on their footprint and check out their top page as well. Sometimes new friendships are born, though often not.

But I got my basic training in "blogging" on Mixi, a social networking system, so when my friend Jeana sent me her updated google blog, and it inspired me to make my own, I came into it fully expecting a similar experience. I sent out notices to all the people on my email mailing list, and eagerly waited to hear comments from tons of people I usually only exchange Christmas cards with. Happily there were a couple of emails from people acknowledging my having written them, but nothing tangible to look at on the blog.

Well it finally dawned on me that, of course, it's not nearly the same system, is it? On a blog, you write your diary, post it, and almost no one comments, ever. I guess they haven't attended Basic Blog Training at a SNS Boot Camp, like me. They may come and visit, even often, but they leave no footprints.

With Jeana's help, I joined Sitemeter, which is a company that helps you keep track of how many people come to call at your blogsite. We can even see who their providers are, and what town in which they are located, but we can't uncover their identities. After Mixi, I am dying to know who has visited. Who is it in Anjo, Aichi that accesses my blog very frequently? Who is it who lives in Sugar Grove, IL...is this an old friend? Is this a new, potential friend? Or will this person, and all the others like them, just be a wisp of a ghostly presence I'll never be privileged to meet or exchange a word with?

My sinking heart seems to say, "The latter, Sally; they're only evaporating drops of moisture on a hot sidewalk." If you have come and are reading this now, please leave a comment once in a while, won't you? If you have a blog as well, I'll come to visit yours. Let's take a lesson from Mixi and mix it up socially, shall we?

Living Halfway Around the World

2008-07-28T07:10:00.013+09:00

Although I had no inkling before it happened, I was meant to live halfway around the world from my roots. The relationship my parents and I have shared in these past 26 ½ years has been better, thanks to the distance. We appreciate each other more because we don't take visits or communication for granted.

In dealing with deaths in the family, too, the distance has been a blessing. It is harder to reach a sense of closure when you can't attend funerals and memorial services, but you also have less to process; your memories of that person and the times you've shared are not spoiled by witnessing their physical and/or mental demise. You remember them as they were the last time you were together.

These are all photos taken at my last visit to see the folks, Summer, 2007 (Todd, Peggy and Maura also visited)

I am not able to get back to Naperville, IL (where I lived from the age of 5 till I left for Japan when I was 24) very often. In fact, after my parents moved back to Ohio (my birthstate) I've only been back once. This is a blessing, too, because the way it has changed in this quarter of a century is upsetting to me. One day I Google-mapped Naperville and was surprised to find that almost every street was accessible by 360˚ camera shots. I could visit my old neighborhood and elementary school, church and friends' homes. I barely recognized anything; homes originally built in the 50's and 60's with spacious front and back yards had been torn down and replaced by "mega mansions"--1-3 million dollar monstrosities that took up the whole lot, with barely a patch of grass or shrub left in sight. Had Naperville been invaded by a group of celebrity wannabes???? What madness was behind the this obscene, overblown cosmetic surgery done to my modest, comfortable town?

Living halfway around the world is VERY inconvenient when family crises occur, and the expensive airfare prevents me from being able to visit my aging parents and siblings (and now my son, too) , as well as many old and dear friends. But modern technology makes keeping in touch easy and affordable (after all, SKYPE is free!) and blogs like this give us the chance to take a peek into the author's life and times.

I'm here to attest the old adage is true: Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Retiring An Old Computer

2008-07-25T17:10:00.005+09:00

Japanese people as a rule love the newest thing. A new piece of technology comes on the market and they line up in front of the electronics store before the doors open, eager to get in and buy one for themselves a.s.a.p.

Okay, I'm exaggerating a little, but it IS true that many Japanese people are in love with the newest, shiniest, most sophisticated and technologically advanced hard- and software. Just look at my son. He no sooner masters the Mac he buys and he wants another version within a year. He has plans to buy an iphone any minute now. It doesn't matter to him if it costs an arm and a leg--if he has the funds on hand, he justifies using them to get the latest thing.

I, on the other hand, am the type of person who wants to use something till it has completely given up the ghost. The first computer I ever had was one that my husband had used for a time, and decided to replace with a newer model. It was programmed with Windows 3.1, the very first version, or close to it, anyway. This model had the hard disk and memory built in below the monitor's screen, so no separate tower to set up nearby. All you did was push a little round button to start and turn it off again.

Because it was an early model, it was very simple to use. There weren't so many options as we have now; it was perfect for my analog-style brain that was dragged kicking and screaming into the cyber world. A friend showed me the basics of computer use on the PC in her office, and with great effort and support by other computer-saavy friends, I slowly mastered using my Compaq Presario CDS 524. I got it in 1996 when it was three years old. I used it till 2006. (Admittedly, we programmed in Windows 95 in the late 90's.)

My brother Todd told me it was a grampa by computer standards, and it was living on borrowed time. It often froze in mid-use, ironically before I had been able to save a long, laboriously created file. Even so, I was loathe to retire it. As long as it still turned on when that little button was pushed, I felt I ought to use it.

And there was so much data stored in it! In fact, the last year or so, I had great problems trying to clear out enough space for the memory to even temporarily save something. There were virtually no kilobytes left to spare in the end. So recognizing it must be replaced, probably sooner than later, I began to save all the important data on floppy disks, never dreaming that FDs were headed for the computer graveyard within months, as well.

A friend with access to a lot of retired computers at her job rescued an IBM tower and monitor and gave them to me, stripped first of all the stuff they'd used in the company. My husband also offered another tower he had gotten from our nephew and used for a while before he went out and actually bought another model himself. I used these both for a while, but eventually asked a friend to help reprogram them, more for my own specific needs, which he did, bless his heart! I have the nephew's Compaq Presario connected to the IBM monitor and the other IBM tower in storage, in case I am suddenly hit by a virus that wipes out my hard disk, or something.

Meanwhile, my son will only use a Mac; he believes with all the passionate furvor of the cocky young that Macs are the superior choice and Windows is a stupid, antiquated system for people who don't know any better. Whenever we talk on Skype and something goes wrong with the mike or headphones, it is automatically my computer's fault, because after all, I am the jerk who hasn't joined the 21st century and gone out and bought a Mac. (As if I had money to do that...geesh!) The sad fact of the matter is, I don't want to throw away anything that still has life left in it. It feels morally wrong to me, somehow.

Yes, my first computer is still set up in my bedroom, although I rarely have cause to turn it on now. In fact, I think I am ready to retire it, and remove it from sight (to the computer parts' graveyard Shigeki has down in our shop)...but I haven't yet. There is this nagging doubt--what if there is something on there I still need? It has ten years of my life trapped inside its memory. I don't want to destroy that.

Retiring an old computer is really hard for me!!

Just Call Me "Oya Baka"

2008-07-24T13:33:00.004+09:00

In Japan, there is an expression for the parent (oya) who is proud as punch of their child, to the point of sounding foolish (baka) to others (when bragging about their offspring, especially).

As for me, I only had one child, so in a sense all my eggs are in that one basket. All my worry, all my pride, all my advice and all my loving energy as a mom was poured into just one boy, my son Naoki.

Growing up in an intercultural home in Japan, my son's language skills were basically Japanese, with bilingual hearing skills (he spoke rather broken English). Despite reading many American picture books together till he was 8 or 9, and my urging him to read and write English, he wasn't very motivated to master those skills as a boy. Upon discovering his ambition to live in the states, though, Naoki decided to develop his English-speaking ability. Through his personal determination, he suddenly began speaking to me in mainly English from high school age on.

After moving to LA, and being immersed in English at every turn, his language ability has really improved-- just ask his gramma, who is happy to speak to him on the phone every couple of weeks.

But the main thing I wanted to share with you today, was one of his accomplishments as a musician, which is his greatest passion, and the reason why he chose LA as the place to live in the states. While working in a restaurant his first year there, he made friends with a fellow who produces electronic music for animation and commercial jingles. One day this friend offered Naoki the opportunity to help co-write a jingle for the Coca Cola company, who had hired him to create the background music for a 15 second ad, slated to be shown in Australia (in 2007). Naoki and Chris worked on it a few hours and came up with a demo tape the company immediately OKed and then used for the ad. If you'd like to hear it, please click on these urls:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9O8p0WWkMqw
http://jp.youtube.com/watch?v=JrIJFGXIuVg

There are two versions of the ad, though the music is the same. The guitar you hear is Naoki's!!
Isn't that cool!?

That's all for today from your favorite Oya Baka! (o´c_,｀o)

Mahbo Doufu (A spicy Japanese tofu dish)

2008-07-23T17:16:00.004+09:00

I can't eat spicy foods. If I eat red pepper flakes I get diarrhea almost immediately. So I avoid them at all costs. Therefore I have never enjoyed eating anything traditionally considered spicy, and tried to avoid Mahbo Doufu, too.

My husband, on the other hand, cannot eat a meal without shaking red pepper flakes into EVERY DISH on the table. He adds it liberally to soups, sauces, noodles, 冷奴 (a cold tofu dish), etc, often even before tasting something to see if it needs it first. Although his name is 茂樹, it really should be spelled 刺激. haha ( I just made a pun in Japanese. My husband's name, Shigeki, can be spelled another way [also shigeki], meaning 'stimulation'.)

One time, my friend Yuko made a very nice, non-spicy Mahbo Doufu for lunch at church and I really liked it. Instead of red pepper, it gets its flavor from ginger and garlic, negi (leeks) and soy sauce. Very delicious! She explained the recipe, but I haven't tried it at home, despite wanting to make it.

My husband cooks a couple of times a week and one day he said, "What would you like for supper?" I was thinking how yummy Yuko's dish was, so I answered, "How about Mahbo Doufu?" He went out and bought a packet of Mahbo Doufu instant flavoring that you just add to tofu and negi. But he was sure to get 'mild' or 'sweet' for my sake. After I ate my fill of it, he finished off the rest, after shaking half a bottle of red pepper flakes into it. Even though it wasn't Yuko's recipe, it was very good. And I didn't have any upset in my intestinal tract at all-- I am so relieved! I can eat mild Mahbo Doufu!! How liberating!