tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65127509301605583832024-03-13T06:16:19.823-07:00Don't Put Chopsticks In Your HairPlease stop it. We eat with those. Do you see me with forks in my hair?Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-924789499275161392017-08-24T22:53:00.002-07:002017-08-24T23:45:43.227-07:00The Other Shoe<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dad took a fall.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My daughter and I have arrived to Tokyo just three days prior and all three of us were headed out. Dad was going to run an errand to the bank, which is a short bus ride away--an errand he runs often. My daughter and I were off to do whatever. We have just stepped out of the house and I was looking out for traffic to cross the street. My daughter has gone ahead. As I turned to tell my dad it was safe to go, he lost his balance. Unable to recover, he collapsed sideways.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was like slow motion. I reached out, but he was too far, and because he seemed as thought he would recover for just a second, I didn't step forward. I couldn't believe how easily he fell. Then things returned to normal speed. I rushed to his aid. First, I took a wide stand and got a hold of his hand, like you would to pull a younger person who does not have trouble walking. Then I realized, he lacked in strength to pull up. Just as I was going in to hold him, a lady came around a corner and rush to our aid. She knew what she was doing. With her leading, we managed to get him up to hold onto the fence. He seemed OK. Shaken, but OK. He said to just give him a minute so he can assess how he is. His face scrunched up with pain whenever he tried to put weight on it. I told him we should call an ambulance. He said wait. Then he said he wanted to go back inside for a bit. I looked up and stared at the three giant steps to the front door and told him I did not think he could get up there . He said wait. Then he said, he would like to sit. So with the lady still there, I ran into the house and grabbed a chair and put it right there on the side of the road for him to sit. Then we sat him down. I thanked the lady, and she continued on to the bus stop repeating, "you should call." I nodded.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Dad, let's call. It's hot out here, and I don't think you can make it up."</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Just a little more time."</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Dad, I don't want us to try and have you fall again."</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"...OK. Maybe we should call."</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I told my daughter, who was standing there frozen to go inside and wait for my instruction. Then I called.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Soon we were riding to a nearby hospital with my daughter in tow. I texted my brother at his work and my husband in Seattle. I also realized I had not said much to my daughter. " He is going to be OK." I managed to squeeze out. "I don't think there are too many kids in the States who has ridden an ambulance in Japan." I added. She smiled. I was grateful she got to the age where I didn't have to worry about her every move. I deliberately took several deep breaths to remain calm. It has been an uneventful 6 years since my mother’s passing. Now, we were heading into another storm. And when you combat a storm, you go through a steep learning curve in rapid succession.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Emergency Room</span></div>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">As my dad got rolled into ER, we were shown to the waiting area. I filled out some basic paperwork and there we waited. After a couple of hours, a doctor came out and said,</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, it’s broken.”</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I froze. It sounded like a textbook senior citizen injury and my dad was living it. The doctor showed me his X Ray and explained that his Femur Neck--which is the joint that holds your thigh bone to your hip socket--is broken, and because of that, his right leg has shifted position. If he wants to walk again, he heeds surgery.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My head was barely catching up to the fact that I let him fall in front of me and the bad information kept rushing at me. I took several more breaths. Focus on now, I kept thinking. Focus on now and what to do in the next hour. I texted my brother everything I was told partly as a way of recording it into my brain. He was on his way. I needed one more set of ears.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Confusion</span></div>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Less than 24 hours later, my brother and I were back at the hospital. Upon arrival, the nurse told us that dad is a bit disoriented and confused. She encouraged us to chat with him about how he got here and why--hearing the information from family sometimes helps bring order to mind.</span><br />
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My father is 91. Though he has shown evidence of short term memory loss, he had not said anything out of the ordinary up to this point. But now, from the trauma of the fall and the events that followed, his brain was thrown into chaos of information. I entered his room and upon seeing me, he told me he was confused. Interestingly, he was fully aware that things were not making sense to him. He said he could not recall what happened and how he got there. I explained the chain of events and that he will need surgery. I repeated this as many times as it took and answered his questions until it seemed like it was registering.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Assessment</span></div>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The doctor (also the surgeon) who was assigned to my father's case was a young female doctor, which immediately gave me comfort and confidence in multiple ways. She brought the copy of dad's X Ray and explained what the surgery is going to do in great detail laymen's terms. It is fairly standard that when this particular fracture occurs to a senior citizen, they would replace his hip joint all together with a metal joint. She said given dad's age, there are, of course, risks in doing surgery but if he doesn't have it, he will never be able to walk again and possibly be bed bound, which will lead to more health issues. She said that she is going to take the next two days to run tests to make sure he is able to handle the surgery and with our go ahead (and his), it will happen on Monday--which was three days from then.</span><br />
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My brother and I agreed that surgery would be a worth doing and we recommended it to dad. After the doctor explained everything, he (in his somewhat confused state) also agreed and understood that it would be better to have the surgery than not. The whole thing stressed me out. If he has the surgery, we might lose him from various complications. He will gain mobility but will need to go through physical therapy and even with that, probably won't be able to move like he did before. He was already walking with a cane. If he doesn't have the surgery, it will be worse.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Next day, my husband arrived as scheduled. I was glad that my daughter had a playmate for the remainder of her trip.</span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L3ltnZLlxrI/WZ9lXnA4HnI/AAAAAAAAIcw/WaIlN6bPqlcfBmLpbaX66igOn9cEUh-HwCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/dad%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1522" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L3ltnZLlxrI/WZ9lXnA4HnI/AAAAAAAAIcw/WaIlN6bPqlcfBmLpbaX66igOn9cEUh-HwCPcBGAYYCw/s200/dad%2B1.jpg" width="190" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dad the bionic man.</td></tr>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Monday morning came. I did not sleep well the night before as I was getting my head ready to face all kinds of possibilities. I looked at the picture of my mom and uttered, "don't come get him yet." I took her engagement ring that I had placed in front of that photo with her wedding ring for good luck. In 24 hours, I may not have a dad. And if we lost him everyone would say "he lived to be 91. How great." That option did not feel great but I needed to be prepared.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My brother, I, and my sister in law headed to the hospital as my husband took our daughter to a Japanese language camp, which was starting that day. Nurses talked us through some things, then the doctor came and went over the procedure, then the anesthesiologist (also a young female--go, Ogikubo hospital!) came and informed us that she will go with partial anesthetic--much like an epidural--which is safer for older folks. The surgery was to take about 2.5 hours.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We accompanied dad down to the surgical floor and waved him in. He disappeared as the doors closed. I smiled and saved but my throat was bone dry and my heart pounding. We headed back up stairs to the waiting area and got comfortable. The next three hours was relatively fast as we three chatted about various things to occupy ourselves. I distracted my mind with things I can do with my own family and my brother and sister in law were making suggestions. The mood was light and casual and calming. I felt like things were going to be OK.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xNM4p9ijaQU/WZ9lbKtuydI/AAAAAAAAIcw/b-TGOHcKLyMd7XHSh-Rb1SmwjxCubDjMACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/tata%2Band%2Bakiko.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xNM4p9ijaQU/WZ9lbKtuydI/AAAAAAAAIcw/b-TGOHcKLyMd7XHSh-Rb1SmwjxCubDjMACPcBGAYYCw/s320/tata%2Band%2Bakiko.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eating at the hospital cafeteria.<br />
My brother and his wife.</td></tr>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">About 3 hours after dad went in, he came out. Awake and waving. We exhaled. As my sister in law headed into work, my brother and I followed dad back to his room. And there we stayed for the next six hours as dad slept off his surgery. The doctor told us it went well. No complications.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Complication</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Two days after the surgery, dad contracted Aspiration Pneumonia--a very common type of pneumonia for senior citizens that is caused by food, drink, and/or saliva going down the wrong tube into their lungs and causing infection. As people age, their throat muscle weakens, causing them to not swallow well and when they are bed ridden as my dad was for several days, the possibility grows bigger. I didn't know any of that before that day. Things you learn when someone gets sick. Things you don't want to know.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This was the second time I braced myself. Pneumonia for a 91 year old sounded like a death sentence. My brain was full of childlike panic and grown up conscience fighting each other. I just exhaled. I just let myself feel better and hope for more time with dad. The doctor said she has started him on antibiotics, and while he is being treated, he can only take in nutrience through iv because eating and drinking could worsen the condition. Dad looked weak. He is build like a scarecrow anyway (as my husband describes, "hugging your dad is like hugging a coat rack") but he looked thinner and old. Because he is. He is old. Very old.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Meeting with A Social Worker</span></div>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Two days since contracting pneumonia, dad was showing signs of improvement. He was alert, aware, and talking though still occasionally confused. I exhaled. My brother, my sister in law, and I met with the hospital social worker (side note, every one we've met up to this point has been younger than us) who consults with families on how to go forward in terms of patients' care. She told us that under a normal circumstance like dad's case, this particular hospital could only keep him up to a month with some basic level of physical therapy. That time line was now blurred a bit because of his pneumonia--but regardless, we needed to make plans for what comes next. Once his pneumonia is under control, we would move him to a rehab facility that would focus on PT and get him to a goal we set to get him home. While he is there (which could be a couple of months depending on how much he can handle), we need to assess what he will need at home, including daily nursing care, continuing PT, and equipment. She gave us some option of places all nearby, we discussed pros and cons and narrowed down our choices to two. Once the doctor gives a go ahead, she will put in a request on our behalf and he will be moved to the first place with an open bed. Then she explained some benefits we can claim from the city and gave us paperwork to fill out. She was very gentle in tone, clear in her explanation, and encouraging. It felt good to make plans. I walked out hoping he would be well enough to be moved while I was there.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Japanese Health Care</span></div>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Health Care is socialized in Japan. According to my brother, the government used to cover 100% of the cost--but then with the growth of elderly population, people started to take advantage and go to the doctor for little to no reason, and hang around the hospital for socializing. It was starting to cost the government enormous amounts of money--my brother said, "when it's free, some people think it's their right." So the system has changed. Now, everyone is responsible for 30% of the cost. But then, you can cover that 30% if you also have private insurance, for things like hospitalization, etc. In addition, there is a nursing care benefits you can receive from the city--each city office sends out an agent when a senior citizen is hospitalized to assess the level of care they will need when they go home. Based on that assessment, people can receive a variety of in home care, ranging from nursing staff coming to your house, taking you out to go to physical therapy, and equipment you might need like ramps and railings. But how much you can get for free is all based on the day of the assessment. My brother told me a story of his colleague, who is in his 70s and has a mother who is 100. She lives alone without any problems but some time ago, she also took a fall and needed some help. She had an adequate amount of aid to start off, but then when the agent came out the second time, her competitive performance nature kicked in and functioned extremely well in front of them, thus decreasing the amount of care she could receive. "Can you believe her?" He said. It's odd to hope for a bad result, but we were hoping that the agent would come on dad's bad day.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dementia Land</span></div>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the days went by and his fever subsided, his confusion started to fade away and he was back to his normal forgetful himself. About 10 days after his fall, his brother (Aki) and sister (Saeko) twins came to visit. I met them at the station and took them to the hospital. His face lit up when I walked them into the room, but then as we were chatting, he suddenly said,</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"How is the house you are living in?"</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We paused. I said,</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"You mean, your house?"</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"No, no, the new one."</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"What new one?"</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Well, I thought that there was a piece of land up on the hill that our family owned and we had some houses built for all of us to live in. And you are in the tall building."</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We paused again. What is he talking about?? I was trying to get into his head to see where this was coming from and piece together something. My father grew up in a neighborhood in Tokyo called Sankocho, where his father had a large estate that survived the Tokyo bombing of 1945. After his death in the 60s, my dad decided to move away from that area and build a house of his own (where I grew up) and left his sister Tami (#2 of 5) in charge of the land. She sold it, and a big condo was built and Tami and Aki moved into large units in the building. Since then, aunt Tami has moved out to be in a nursing home, but he grand daughter Naoko, here sister Junko and her family, and my cousin Toshi (Aki's son), all live in the building. So I figured this was what he was referring to.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Are you talking about Sankocho?"</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Uncle Aki joined in.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Oh, that must be it. Yes, some of us live there, but Mimi is staying at your house in Ogikubo."</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This line of questioning went on for w few days. Finally, I said to dad that I didn't quite know what he was talking about. Then he said.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Oh--maybe I am confused."</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"I think you might be."</span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then he stopped asking about where I lived after that. It was more fascinating than upsetting to witness how his mind was confused. What happens to your brain and memory when you are old and face trauma. In my dad's case, if I point out that he maybe confused, he would take a moment to think about it and realized it. He did ask repeatedly where is cane went, his wallet, and other belonging, but if I told him every time that I took them all home and they are safe, the number of time he asked decreased. I did wonder if he was starting to slip away and if this was going to get worse.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "arial unicode ms" , "arimo" , "microsoft sans" serif , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.3333px; font-weight: bold;">Physical Therapy<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5YQJO74TZBk/WZ9nXMdodDI/AAAAAAAAIc8/mQPzeAWFFOczxHu-Ua6_ZJJB61QeyAS_QCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_7194%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5YQJO74TZBk/WZ9nXMdodDI/AAAAAAAAIc8/mQPzeAWFFOczxHu-Ua6_ZJJB61QeyAS_QCPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_7194%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad's PT=Saint like patience</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As his pneumonia was starting to get under control, his physical therapy was starting. The doctor said, about 24 hours after the surgery, he can put his weight on his leg and start moving. A week of lying in bed has decreased his mobility and in order to regain it, he needed to move. It is amazing how weak dad could get in less than a week. The day I watched his PT, he sat up and immediately asked if he could lie back down. A young man who is working with him, very gently distracted him away from that thought encouraged him to move to the wheel chair where he had a back support. The therapist talked him through where to place his feet, hands, and how to shift is weight, skillfully moved the IV and the catheter around as dad moved while supporting his weight and took his blood pressure after every move was completed. Never pushy but encouraging. Very, very patient. It was good to see my dad up right, but then when they moved to the rehab room and got him to walk (holding onto bars), my heart got lighter. He moved really slowly, but he was walking. All the worries that built up melted away at that moment--he is going to survive this.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-f6f8b775-1819-cf65-c57f-733d718d9234" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">New Routine</span></div>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The hospital is not terribly far from our house which made this new routine managable. It was a bus ride to the station, which is about 7 min. Then walking to the other side of the station to catch a different bus, which was also about 7 min. The second leg had 3 bus options but they were less frequent. If I was in a hurry, I jumped in a cab. Once I was there, I went up to the 5th floor and signed in at the nurse station to get a visitor pass. After 5pm on weekdays and on weekends, you go through the side entrance and sign in at the 1st floor with the security guard.</span><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My dad changed room 3 times. First day, he was on the 4th floor because that was what was available, but then he was moved to the 5th floor which is the floor with injury patients. He was in Room 10, then 6, then 3--they kept moving him closer to the nurse station as it became available so that they had a clear and immediate view of my dad.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The nurses worked in three 8 hour shifts. I typically saw the day nurse as she was in her last couple of ours into the night nurse as I left at the end of visiting hours at 8:00pm. After a week, I pretty much knew who was on what shifts. My husband, daughter and I would go about our day doing things, then we would part at the station and I would head to the hospital and they would go home. Or I would go to the hospital first, if our plan didn't happen until later in the day and they would meet me there and we would go out. My middle niece who works nearby would get off at 7:00pm, take the bus to the hospital and see my dad for about 40 min every day. Other s came when they could depending on their work/school schedule. When my brother came, he always came from home in a car so that we could get a ride. And whoever was there would text the rest to give any kind of update. I was glad I was physically there. It is always harder and your imagination would grow wilder if you can't see what's happening. I did not have to imagine how my dad looked, or the hospital or the doctor. This was the only positive in the entire situation.</span></div>
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<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Family and Friends Who Know</span></div>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I take it back. There was another positive. I spent a lot of time with my brother. On the day of the surgery, we sat together for about 8 hours chatting on and off. And through this whole crises, we discussed what could and should be done. There has been some of that since my mother's passing, but this was a concentrated circumstance. It good to compare notes on our perspectives from equal footing. Also interesting because we have different experiences with our dad. I guess something about being a son v.s. a daughter.</span><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was also nice to spend time and talk about my dad with my uncle and aunt. I had not gone out just with these two, perhaps ever, so I asked them questions about being twins, and their childhood and verified some stories I have heard from their points of view.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I also spent some time with my cousin (technically first cousin once removed) for the first time in years. Naoko is just five years younger than me who started her modeling career at the age of 15 and now runs a management company. She also has been the sole care taker of her grandmother (my aunt Tami) until she went into a nursing home. She also lives right next door to her sister and her family in aforementioned condo and helps takes care of her niece nephew. She had just beat breast cancer and was joking about her "bald and fat" appearance in the most down to earth way. Her experience with my aunt and the fact that she knows my dad well made her a good resource for me. She seemed to embrace and understand aging minds, and have the great capacity for empathy--not focused on what should be done, but more on how they feel about what is happening, which is so easy to forget.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Should I Stay or Should I Go?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the third and last week of our visit was starting, dad's fever shot back up to 102. He had just started back on solid food about 4 days before, and though he was of not showing much appetite, it was an improvement. But now, he was out like a light, breathing shallow, and looking weak again.</span><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">CRAP.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I sat by him and just held his hand. This was the third mental(?) heart attack. I was not ready for this set back. I just wanted to feel better and stay there. I'm sure he did too. Logistics and worst case scenario rushed around my head--I was to start directing a show in two weeks. I pulled back to catch my breath and decided to just focus on whether to leave or stay one more week. I was back and forth and finally my husband told me to stay. That he would take care of business at home and take our daughter back.</span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That Friday, I took my family to the airport and put them on the flight back to Seattle. My daughter, who I thought would have a hard time with this said, "It's good you are staying with Jiji." That was a gift. As I rode the train back, I was thinking about 6 years ago. I came to see my mother by myself for a week, which ended up being the last time I saw her. It was a stressful trip not only because of my mom, but also that this was the first time I left my daughter, who was 4 at the time, for this long. My dad took me to the station and we discussed mom's condition and what we hoped for her. He was going to pick up some bento that my mom requested on his way home. I told him I will come again in a couple of months and took this very train to the airport, crying most of the way because I intuitively knew I might not see my mom again. This time, I was riding it going towards my dad, wondering if this is the last time.</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "arial unicode ms" , "arimo" , "microsoft sans serif" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7Woe1MI_CRk/WZ-7LtTlFxI/AAAAAAAAIdw/l9b9GEEwIK4CU24xSzNoFng07HQ5mpLwACLcBGAs/s1600/File_000.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7Woe1MI_CRk/WZ-7LtTlFxI/AAAAAAAAIdw/l9b9GEEwIK4CU24xSzNoFng07HQ5mpLwACLcBGAs/s320/File_000.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the Tokyo Sky Tree from the train</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "arial unicode ms" , "arimo" , "microsoft sans serif" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Pneumonia II: This time it's personal</span></div>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 10pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I went back to the hospital and the doctor found me to tell me that his pneumonia had come back. She said this happens from time to time so they are once again going to take him off solid food and get him back on iv with antibiotics and fluids. I got home and rearranged my things--cleaned the guest rooms where we were and moved my things to my dad's room and change the sheets and climbed into his bed.</span><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next morning, I texted with my husband about this new development. I sat in the bathtub and had a breakdown that was probably long overdue. Surrounded with his things, I sat in the house, wondering and hoping he will get to come back again. Once, I was done with that, I got my stuff together and went back to the hospital. His fever had gone down and though he seemed drowsy, he looked better. I sighed a big sigh. My husband asked if I needed to stay longer than a week, and it struck me that I need to go back. At least for a bit. This was not the level of stress I could sustain. I needed to get back to my own house, my work, and my own family to experience some normalcy to reset my mental health. Once I figure that out, the week got a little easier and more focused.</span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My routine was to spend the morning checking my work email, sorting through dad's piled up paper and mail, have lunch, then head to the hospital. I spent anywhere from 2 to 5 hours a day there. Some days just sitting and watching TV while he slept, some day, chatting if he was feeling up to it. He would occasionally get confused about his iv, and his catheter and tug on the tubes so that they had to restrain him when he did not have a visitor watching. This was difficult. He would ask why he had mittens on, how it's hard to use his hands when he has them on or why his wrists were buckled to the bed. No a fun sight or conversation.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "arial unicode ms" , "arimo" , "microsoft sans" serif , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fHzJA4FIyJQ/WZ9lakyaK0I/AAAAAAAAIcw/v9HwXZs2sM0CNgYfwpuFAeZYFPvmoFOSACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/dad%2527s%2Bmail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fHzJA4FIyJQ/WZ9lakyaK0I/AAAAAAAAIcw/v9HwXZs2sM0CNgYfwpuFAeZYFPvmoFOSACPcBGAYYCw/s320/dad%2527s%2Bmail.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So. Much. Mail.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He had his good day and bad day--the nurse told me that one evening, he insisted he was going home. He raised his voice demanding. My dad doesn't raise his voice. He is the calmest, most even tempered man I know. I can remember maybe ONCE in my life when he yelled at me and I was being a total jerk. I told her that is highly unusual and she said it happens to the gentlest of people. They sleep on and off all day and gain some energy at night and it manifests itself in frustration. All very logical. I don't know how nurses do it. But they are good at it.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-f6f8b775-181c-8a84-257f-1cbff02064f2" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At one point, dad told me that his body did not feel like his own. I can only imagine. He would get his phlegm stuck in his throat, but because he is so weak, he can't cough it out. So then the nurses have to come in and suction it out, which is very very painful. They first try to get him to cough it out, and use that as the very last resort but he often could not do it himself. They ask me to step out when this happens but I can hear the sound of the suction and his moaning in pain and it is the worst sound. I don't envy anyone in that room. When they finish, I go back in and hold his hand.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"That is hell" he says.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"I know. It's awful. But there is no other way to prevent you from choking."</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Right."</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And so it went on like that for 7 days.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One time, he asked,</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"How long have you lived in America now?'</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Let's see--34 years?"</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"My goodness. That is a long time."</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Well, I was 15 and I am almost 50 so..."</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"How is your theatre?"</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Oh, it's good."</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"We used to take a stroll down the hill from our cabin and talked about a lot of things--remember?"</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Yeah, I remember."</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I do remember. My family owns a cabin up on a mountain in Nagano (where the winter Olympics took place in 1999). We used to spend our entire summer there and my dad would get up in the morning and stroll down the hill to the resident center to pick up his news paper and I would accompany him. We used to chat about whatever. Not sure what brought that specific memory on, but that is what he remembered at that moment which almost broke me.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But I sat there, not breaking. Like he did for my mom.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b51kfRKiIrs/WZ9lXA5CGNI/AAAAAAAAIcw/Ks58GMVlcBALkeH3FunayGQNAqnxBB3nACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/dad%2Basleep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b51kfRKiIrs/WZ9lXA5CGNI/AAAAAAAAIcw/Ks58GMVlcBALkeH3FunayGQNAqnxBB3nACPcBGAYYCw/s320/dad%2Basleep.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad snoozing, me watching Sumo Wresting.<br />
Some people growing with the sound of base ball.<br />
I grew up to this sound.</td></tr>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leaving</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My last day of visit came. I spent much of the day there reminding him that I was leaving tomorrow but that I will come back in a couple of months to check on him. My middle niece who had stopped by almost every night after work joined me at the end of the visiting hours. I kept my good bye short and like any other day. He waived and said "have a good trip home." I looked back only once.</span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-f6f8b775-181c-e24f-61cc-88280772f457"><br /></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Since my brother has taken a lot of time off from work to tend to the hospital matters, I told him I could take myself to the airport. I sent most of my things back with my family so I took a cab to the station and hopped on the train. I felt tired. But also felt good to be going back. I made a decision not to be consumed by stress and worries. Just get back and do my thing. My brother and his family was here. They will keep me updated. Dad is in good hand.</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vBO7LRGgV5c/WZ9laJ423uI/AAAAAAAAIcw/ff75dYGFv-4RQDvJsgWA7elIiqySGXUfQCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/mirror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="938" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vBO7LRGgV5c/WZ9laJ423uI/AAAAAAAAIcw/ff75dYGFv-4RQDvJsgWA7elIiqySGXUfQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/mirror.jpg" width="187" /></a></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It's been almost a month since I got back. I have successfully directed the production and now that is coming to a close. Since my return, dad's pneumonia has relapsed 4 times. But at the same time, his leg was healing fine and he has shown progress in his rehab. On his good day, he can walk with a walker and can take himself to the bathroom. But because of the relapse, he has little to no stamina, which slows down his rehab. They have tried having speech therapist to tend to his swallowing to try to strengthen his throat muscle to prevent future relapse but that has not worked. My brother called to discuss the option for the near future, which included feeding tube. We decided that if eating food is the major cause for his pneumonia, and that is hindering his stamina (which it is), that was probably the best solution. But for the time being, we decided (with his medical team) to wait and see.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-f6f8b775-181d-2b37-1197-475ee98af73d" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After having that conversation, dad was eating better. My brother thinks perhaps the notion of yet another procedure motivated him to eat more--but then another relapse occurred. Just this week, I got texts from my brother saying he needed my permission for DNR should it came to that. I gave permission then had another day of crying. Then out of that, I got on Amazon and ordered black dresses for me and my daughter. Just in case. That was morbid and comforting all at once. You do what you can control, I suppose.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then he rallied. Then his oxygen level plummeted, and my brother rushed to the hospital. Then he rallied again. Right now, my biggest concern is that I would have the most inappropriate reaction when he goes. Which could be tomorrow, or 2 months from now, or 3 years.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What are you supposed to hope for a 91 year old? </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had a dream that he got to go home. I guess that is what I wish for him. That he gets to go home.</span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The other shoe is dangling. And I am also dangling.</span></div>
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Me and Dad circa 1970</td></tr>
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Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-21081996969667587382017-01-19T23:57:00.004-08:002017-01-19T23:57:44.395-08:00Keep Calm and Do SomethingI have not fully processed what is about to take place in this country. Thoughts have swirled around in my head incoherently for two months. I am not certain what my voice is in this. I don't have voting rights, but I live and work here, pay taxes, am married to a native, and raising my child here. Not a citizen but a resident. Do I have a say? Am I allowed to have an opinion? But I have been feeling dread and fear. I stepped away from Facebook for awhile because all I was seeing was other people's fear and dread and anger and what you should and shouldn't do. Just shouting and not listening. I felt anxiety come on and I am not an anxious person. So I stepped away to quiet my brain.<br />
<br />
After processing, I think what it boils down for me is this: when faced with crisis, you find out what you are made of. And this is a crisis. Coming from a country that has thousands of years of history full of ups and downs, I look at what is ahead for America as a rite of passage. When things break down so completely, and people are pushed to the edge, something monumental has to happen.<br />
<br />
And I believe in hope.<br />
<br />
I have spent the last 34 years in America. This is the country I chose to live in. This country changed my life and provided me with so many opportunities. I am the product of generosity, openness, and trust of people in this country. I have seen far more good than bad and it has helped me to find my authentic self. I love that Americans are raised to stand up for what they believe in. I love that Americans speak loudly until they are heard. I love that Americans wear their hearts on their sleeves. I love that Americans come from all around the world with so many different beliefs, upbringings, and goals. And because of all that I have seen, I firmly believe that it will turn itself around.<br />
<br />
I am not a refugee or an immigrant at risk. And I am not a citizen. But I do owe my life to this country. So I am going to do my part in supporting. I found four organizations that I can donate to every month (my husband also found four). I will continue to do my part as a theatre artist and educator to help raise the future generation of Americans to be empathetic and vocal. I will work on my interpreting and translation skills to help build the bridge between my two countries. And I will raise a daughter who is aware of the two cultures she carries in her blood, who will draw from the strength of the two places and contribute.<br />
<br />
I was raised by two people who experienced their country losing everything and then building it back up. Just this last year, leaders of our countries visited Hiroshima and Pearl Harbor together. What great progress. What a hopeful message. There is every reason to believe great things can still happen.<br />
<br />
Let's get to work.<br />
<br />Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-12010252607945815742016-10-05T17:07:00.000-07:002016-10-05T17:26:57.489-07:005 years of international mourningIt was on October 5th of 2011 that my mother passed away. Since that time, our daughter went from a preschooler to a 4th grader, we got a new dog, my husband suffered a crippling bout of depression, I starred in a play, my uncle died, the theatre where I work was evicted and had to move (never move a theatre company while in operation by the by). I started experiencing premenopausal symptoms, I became an expert on international financing, and traveled to Tokyo about ten times. It's been a jam-packed 5 years full of solid grown up stuff.<br />
<br />
It used to be that I would travel to Japan once every two years. But since my mother's passing, I go twice a year to look in on my father. I take my daughter with me every time because she doesn't remember my mother though she says she misses her. Her memory of my mother is of her dying. And me crying. I want to make sure that she has a clear memory of my dad. Alive,<br />
<br />
On every trip, I would tackle a closet in the house to clean out my mother's belongings, which has been an immense task. She experienced the war so she held onto positively EVERYTHING, "just in case." She also had a sizable walk-in closet full of clothes, which was trouble. Japan does not have Goodwill. There is not really a place where you can drive up with your car full of crap and dump it. You can take some things to consignment shops but that takes time to sort and go to different places and they can reject what you bring. My time was limited and I do not drive in Tokyo so that was not a choice. I asked around to my friends who have gone through this and they said they just threw them away or paid a company to come and haul it away to be thrown away, which seems wasteful. My good Catholic mother would gasp in horror. So I began by giving things away to relatives and people who were close to my mother including the lovely Filipino lady who has been cleaning my parents' house for nearly 15 years and adored my mother. She was really helpful. I knew she lived in a house with a bunch of other Filipino ladies so I packed bag after bag of everyday clothing, purses, and some accessories and she took them all. After that, I homed in on my one cousin who has mentioned that my mother's clothes fit her perfectly. She lives quite a distance away but she came with an empty suitcase and took as much as she could. I told her that even when I wasn't there, come visit my dad and take what she liked. Over the course of 5 years, she came multiple times and thanked me up and down. But all this only took care of about 25% (UGH). Because my mother was involved with some fancy international fund raising organizations, she had many high end suits and evening gowns that people in Japan normally wouldn't have the occasion to wear. And that remained a source of my headache for the next few years.<br />
<br />
One summer, I cleaned out a hallway closet full of gifts, many of which were dry goods. Japan has a custom of sending gifts to friends and acquaintances in the middle of the summer and end of the year and dry goods are common. I brought a bunch to my brother's house up stairs (it's a duplex situation), cooked and ate some myself and discarded ones that were grossly out of date. Once I made some room, I then moved the pile of books and clutter that was in a now-neglected office so that I could use it when I came. Then I tackled a pantry closet and threw out food that was old, and piles of paper bags and organized it so that my dad can see and find things. <br />
<br />
While I was doing this, I also started to notice some things about my father. First was the garbage. Japanese garbage is complicated. You have to sort more than you do in the States and different items go out every morning by 7:00 or so. You can't put them out the night before because some jerk started lighting trash on fire. True story. My father's sleep pattern is different from day to day and because he wakes up several times a night, he ends up getting out of bed later, missing the garbage pick up. So things were piling up by the back gate on the outside and some inside. I purchased several bins and labeled them so he can easily sort them, and asked my sister in law to look in on the situation.<br />
<br />
Then there was the mail and the magazines. My father had a huge pile of magazines he was not reading so I put them out to recycling. Then with his request and permission, I stopped the subscriptions. The mail was being opened but he would put them aside to go over it later and there they stayed. With that, I discovered that he has two US Bank accounts that had my mother's name on them that had been frozen because he neglected the notices. This launched a three year project for me, a task that is not that difficult if all parties live in the States but is a total pain in the ass when the account holder is a foreigner. For starters, talking to the bank on his behalf took 2 hours on international call being transferred several times with my father on speaker phone which he had trouble hearing. It's not a bad thing that banks are cautious about fraud but it was maddening. My husband who was in the room listening almost went insane during this. But we got through it and got all the paperwork in place for them to release his funds and close the joint accounts. Then there was the death certificate. It couldn't just be an English certificate that hospital issued. It had to have a Foreign Ministry Seal to ensure that it was real. Which meant that I had to ask my sister in law to make an appointment, drive my father there and get that signed by a certain date. Then I had to help him fill out a 10 page form from the bank and have it notarized. And to do that, I had to make an appointment at the US Embassy and take my father there, go through two sets of security to sign. While doing this, I had to repeat myself about 10,000 times to my father to explain what the form was for and where we were going and why because his memory doesn't hold much anymore. All of this was stretched over several trips and was weighing on me to get done because I kept saying to myself, "get it done while dad is well, get it done while dad is well." Well, he turned 90 this year, and aside form hearing and short term memory loss, there is not a thing wrong with him. Go figure. But I am glad it's done anyway. And now I know how it works though I will probably never need to do it again.<br />
<br />
But all of this taught me something. He is aging. Sounds obvious but this is happening rather rapidly. Things are slightly different every time I go so I learn what is pattern is and see if I can help the matter. My brother's family live upstairs and he has dinner with them every night but during the day, they all work or go to school and they do not come down to his house to spend time so things go unnoticed. Like the garbage. So I look around and report to my brother. Then he works with his wife to see if he can help some things while I am not there. At first, I was frustrated. Frustrated that my father was not functioning in the way that he used to, and my brother's family seemed to be doing just the bare minimum. But over time, I realized my frustration is not helpful. My father is battling excruciating loneliness every day. He spends his day with at TV on because that is the only voice he can have in the house. Most of his friends are now dead and he is a bit of an introvert so he is not one to go out and find new ones. I was suggesting different things for a while but I stopped because he does not feel comfortable. And that is OK. I learned that I shouldn't suggest things just to make myself feel better. He lived this long, he can do what he wants. He loves when we come. He loves when I call. So that is what I do. As for my brother's family, they got their own thing going on. They are thoughtful to my father and my brother takes him to the family cabin that he loves every chance he gets. And that is what they can manage and that is OK. My brother is grateful for the work I do and is receptive when I ask him to do something. We make a good team. It could be a lot worse.<br />
<br />
One funny thing during all this was that my mother has stored several envelopes full of cash, "just in case." For a while, every time I went home, my dad would bring out an envelope and say, "your mother had some cash stashed away--why don't you split it with your brother?" Some were $200, some were $500, and one time it was about $2,000. You could tell about when she stashed each envelope because Japan changes currency design every few years. So there were some that had old currency, which you can still use, but probably had higher value because of its age. We split them, giggling, and questioning how many more envelopes were hidden in the house. I took it as a stipend for my hard work. Thank you, Mother.<br />
<br />
So it went--my last 5 years. In between my trips, I would be immersed in raising a daughter, stressing about my husband's condition, doing my work and trying to hold it together and felt like barely managing because my body is also going through a change. And I was mourning. But now, my daughter is a more self-sufficient (and sometimes even helpful) young person, my husband is in treatment and managing his depression, I got on top of my own health situation (what up, Zoloft?) and work has calmed down from the move. Talk about a life experience. 40s is no joke. And I know my story is not rare or the worst one.<br />
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One of my childhood best friends who lost both of her parents within 2 years said to me, "there comes a point when you can just say 'sorry!' and get rid of all the things that are left." I hit that point this summer. I was no longer sentimental and on a roll to just clear the rest of the clutter. Mother is not here anymore. She has not been for 5 years and she is not coming back. We have to move on. Make room for other things and not live with a ghost anymore. So I tracked down a non profit organization that will sell the donated items and send the proceeds to the third world charity. That, my mother would approve. I packed up the last of the stuff and as I did, I put on the most outrageous outfits and took photos. That was my final farewell to her.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5__z967rZmY/V_WFg-mUsiI/AAAAAAAAFE0/hCGSckm_icwkrh0l-z9qcb0D8yI153wsgCK4B/s1600/photo-collage.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5__z967rZmY/V_WFg-mUsiI/AAAAAAAAFE0/hCGSckm_icwkrh0l-z9qcb0D8yI153wsgCK4B/s320/photo-collage.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Some people are forced to go through this process much sooner and faster. In a way, I am glad I took 5 years because the pace of it coincided with my pace of mourning. At first, I was plagued with things I should have said and done, but over time, I started to focus more on what I was able to do and manage at the time and remember that my mother was happy with me. She lives on in me and my daughter (and my brother and my nieces). Sometimes, I do a double take at a mirror because I so clearly see her in my face. I have yet to decide if I like that or not. I will continue to make my frequent trips as long as I need to. I suppose that is the way it is when you are an ocean away from your father who is left behind.<br />
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<br />Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-88677379725429053562014-01-21T23:20:00.001-08:002014-01-22T22:28:24.091-08:00Is That a Thing Now?Happy New Year everyone. It's the year of the horse, which means in two years, it will be the year of the monkey, which means I will be 48, which means the cycle after that will put me at 60.<br />
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I need to go lie down.<br />
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Anyhoo, I'd like to open 2014 with a question from a reader (which is fun and shocking all at the same time). It stated, "What is the difference between chopsticks and hair chopsticks?" The wise ass in me wants to say "well, one has the word 'hair'." But I know that is not what this person meant. I think she needs to know the structural difference between the two.<br />
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But before I get to that, let me back up. Kate, a friend from work was called in for a jury duty recently. Upon reading the material to prepare herself for her civic duty, she found this and posted it on my Facebook page:<br />
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"<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Number 8 on the list of items allowed in the court house: "Hair chopsticks with blunt tips."</span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Hair chopsticks. Apparently that is a thing now. I have many feelings about this term. In the minds of people here, is there a difference? Do they sell "hair chopsticks" that is different from the regular chopsticks or do you simply call it hair chopsticks when you just use the regular ones for hair. More importantly, is it encouraging utensils to end up in people's hair?</span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">So I Googled "hair chop sticks," and found something like this (which has some pretty decorations):</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zchD03kIQ1A/Ut9r2yNGmdI/AAAAAAAAAjU/xGN30IopIpQ/s1600/hair+chopsticks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zchD03kIQ1A/Ut9r2yNGmdI/AAAAAAAAAjU/xGN30IopIpQ/s1600/hair+chopsticks.jpg" height="210" width="320" /></a></div>
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But then there are also these (which pretty much is the same as what we eat with): </div>
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<i> </i>So it seems that what people here mean by "hair chop sticks" is <i> </i>mostly sticks that are longer than regular chop sticks or ones that have some big decorations.</div>
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Where I come from, there is no such term as "hair chop sticks." There is, however, a term called "KANZASHI" which is a stick sold singularly that you do stick in your hair, when you are dressed in a traditional Kimono like this:</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ETA3CD3A5OY/Ut9ucZzKoOI/AAAAAAAAAj4/qqDPiriikUs/s1600/makie-butt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ETA3CD3A5OY/Ut9ucZzKoOI/AAAAAAAAAj4/qqDPiriikUs/s1600/makie-butt.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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or like this:<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pubk0gFp0Kg/Ut9uKNOdsuI/AAAAAAAAAjo/pFHSXtPE9LY/s1600/kiku.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pubk0gFp0Kg/Ut9uKNOdsuI/AAAAAAAAAjo/pFHSXtPE9LY/s1600/kiku.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
or like this:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-85WIgiBiuPU/Ut9uQUMLNEI/AAAAAAAAAjw/1oFcxegHngU/s1600/%E3%81%8B%E3%82%93%E3%81%95%E3%82%99%E3%81%97%EF%BC%91.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-85WIgiBiuPU/Ut9uQUMLNEI/AAAAAAAAAjw/1oFcxegHngU/s1600/%E3%81%8B%E3%82%93%E3%81%95%E3%82%99%E3%81%97%EF%BC%91.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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And it is used for a decorative purpose rather than practical like this:</div>
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Or like this:<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m8LOkZqOsYI/Ut9vei-rjBI/AAAAAAAAAkE/Nfkfakeo2RE/s1600/%E8%8A%B8%E8%80%85.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m8LOkZqOsYI/Ut9vei-rjBI/AAAAAAAAAkE/Nfkfakeo2RE/s1600/%E8%8A%B8%E8%80%85.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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I may have said this before, but Japanese hair is so thick and straight that a couple of sticks won't hold it into place. I've heard my friends in Japan say--"how do their hair stay in place with chopsticks?" immediately after "why do they use chopsticks in hair?"</div>
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Not sure it this clarified anything. I tried. I am totally amused though that I seem to have now unintentionally trained my American friends to report to me when they spot chopsticks in hair. I suppose that is a legacy of sort. </div>
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Hope you all have a happy and healthy year. </div>
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<br />Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-71783104584836944832013-11-06T13:02:00.003-08:002013-11-06T13:08:05.482-08:00Radio Exercise <br />
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If you are a citizen of Japan, you would know what RAJIO TAISO (Radio Exercise) is no matter what the age. It is a series of pretty simple movements set to very pleasant piano music that we all learn in gym class. There are two different types and you learn number one in elementary school, and two in middle school (I think). Each takes about 3 minutes to do and it's a good warm up for any sports you might play for the rest of the class so you do it.<br />
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But because it's something everyone knows, it has spread to places beyond the school gym. Some corporate offices and factory type of places go outside after lunch and do it all together before returning to work. It's team building and stretching all rolled up into one. Sometimes you can see such things happening from a subway if you ride it around that time of day. But of course for people between the ages of 12 to 35, it's totally dorky and no one wants to do it. If they are forced, they just sort of do it. There is a scene in a Studio Ghibli film, <i>Whisper of the Heart, </i>where the main character has to go to a summer Radio Exercise and get her paper stamped to get credit and she totally goofs off because she is the only one attending. We've all been there.<br />
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The history of this dates back to 1928. Apparently, an American health insurance company aired something like this back then to promote general health of their people--because insurance companies need people to stay well and there were some epidemic of tuberculosis and such which prompted them to come up with this. Japanese insurance companies who learned this followed suit and developed what we now all know. Along with the piano music, a man would coach you through the moves so that you can follow along. It first aired on NHK, which is like PBS here and 80 years later, it still airs everyday, now on TV. They stopped during the war, and when some emergencies occurred, but other than that, it is apparently the longest running TV spot in the history of Japanese TV but it's treated as something senior citizen might do and that's it. <i>Side note: the American occupational soldiers apparently found this to be somewhat creepy in that everyone was doing exactly the same move all together. Kind of like what we feel when we see North Korean children dance--I imagine and I can see why.</i><br />
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Recently, I read it in a Japanese magazine that this Radio Exercise is not to be dismissed. If you do it right, it actually does a lot of good. I am lacking in exercise these days outside of walking the dog and felt like I should to something so I tried it. <br />
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It. Kicked. My. Ass. <br />
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I am a former dancer. In my twenties, I was dancing about 20 hours a week. I obviously don't do that any more but I still choreograph shows and teach occasional dance classes so there should be some good base there. And yet, after 6 and a half minutes of this, my heart was pumping more than it probably should, and the next day, I was sore. Kind of sad because it really isn't hard. But also kind of a discovery. So I decided to do it everyday. I can do 6 minutes, everyday. <br />
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It been about a week now and I am a fan. This is good stuff if you have a job that makes you sit all day. It's super simple but stretches and moves everything you need to. Of course, you would not think this to be anything if you are a kind of a person who works out a lot. Don't judge me. I don't care about the dorkiness, because I am middle aged. I made my 6
year old daughter do it with me, and she had a good time. I don't know
that she will continue, but I will, dammit.<br />
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In closing, I give you the visual. Try it. It's dorky fun. <br />
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<br />Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-85117850433566165132013-10-16T09:34:00.001-07:002013-10-16T09:34:22.673-07:00In the Year 2020It has been announced that the summer Olympics in 2020 will be held in Tokyo. There has been a pretty intense amount of campaigning in Japan and it seemed like the whole country just exploded with excitement when it was announced. As did I. <br />
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Japan has hosted three Olympics in the past-<a href="http://www.olympic.org/tokyo-1964-summer-olympics" target="_blank">1964 in Tokyo</a>, 1972 in Sapporo, and 1998 in Nagano. The last two were the winter games. It was a big deal in 1964, because it was the first time that an Asian country hosted the games, and Japan was recovering from the devastation of WWII (more on that <a href="http://www.japantimes.co.jp/sports/2013/08/24/more-sports/olympics/a-look-back-at-when-tokyo-was-awarded-1964-olympics/#.Ul62hryE4hc" target="_blank">HERE</a>). But this event put the country on the map. Japan requested to hold the events in October that year (because summer in Tokyo is so very bloody humid), and since that year, October 10th (day of the opening ceremony) has become a National Holiday. After the Tsunami of 2011, and the grim events the followed with Fukushima nuclear power plant, there has been many talks in the Japanese media about how the country might cease to exist if the Japanese people continued to lose faith. And much like how it helped back in 1964, people's hope for 2020 is riding on the success of the Olympics.<br />
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One of the biggest emotional damage I felt after the quake two years ago, was the notion that the foreign residents fled the country. And while there are still some concerns, I hope that people will go. We're certainly talking about it. Our daughter will be in middle school, which might be the perfect age. Japanese media is now talking a lot about pros and cons, and who is going to direct the opening ceremony, what entertainers get to host the events around the games, etc. As it's shown in the article posted above, in 1964, they had a young man who was born on August 6, 1945 in Hiroshima to run the torch. That is hard to top. But in the meantime, I want to plant this in your head. You have seven years to save your money and think about it.<br />
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I hope to see you there.<br />
<br />Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-20685325857755542232013-09-25T22:01:00.001-07:002013-09-26T14:40:58.257-07:00This Time Of YearSeptember 11th was my mother's birthday. Two years ago, on that day, my mother who had been in and out of the hospital was released to go home--for the last time, it turned out. It was the best present she could have received at the time. I went home to see her shortly thereafter for about 10 days, then 5 days after I came back, she passed away. And that was October 5th.<br />
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Summer turning into fall is one of my favorite times of the year. As I grew up in Tokyo, that meant it was a relief from the beastly heat, and you could wear cute jackets but not have to bundle up. But even as I have lived in Seattle for 14 years where the summer is the most beautiful time of year, something about the cool air and adding a comforter to your bed seems cozy. And the rain just adds to that.<br />
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But now, between September 11th and October 5th is a pensive time for me. The day of my mother's funeral was beautiful. Sunny and warm. And so gorgeous fall days will forever be associated with that time. My father recently told me that he recalls cherry blossoms in full bloom when his mother passed away (he was 16 at the time), which is another beautiful time of year in Japan. He didn't articulate it, but I imagine he thinks about that every spring.<br />
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Last year, I went home alone to attend the one year anniversary gathering. There is a two year gathering this year, but I am unable to go. Once again, the distance is separating me from my family--I wish I was just a train ride or car drive away, but I am not. All I can do is to call my dad and chat with him, look up at the sky and search for my mother and report to her about my daughter in my head. I go over and over about things I said and didn't say and the very last hug my mother gave me which was weak but lingering.<br />
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Recently, I was back on stage after almost 12 years. It was play about The Manhattan project called <a href="http://tim-mar-photography.smugmug.com/Theatre/Whispering-Ghosts" target="_blank"><i>The Realm of Whispering Ghosts</i></a> and much to my shock, I had one of the four principals, and with the most amount of lines, which almost did me in. I played a young (!!) woman who died in Hiroshima bombing and tries to go back in time to change history. Her character was determined, loyal, relentless, and strong. She was my mother. I thought of her every time I was out there and when my husband saw it, the first thing he said was "your character reminded me of your mom," and we hadn't even discussed it.<br />
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Then around the time of her birthday, a calendar, which is produced by an organization my mother was a part of, fell to the floor while my husband was near by. He picked it up and tacked it back on the wall and it fell twice after that. When he went to pick it up for the third time, he uttered, "I know it's your birthday, Janet."<br />
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I suppose that is how people live on. By haunting you in good ways and bad and lingering in your thoughts and sense memories. <br />
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Maybe I will take myself to church on October 5th. That'll shock her.Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-71437492877600382832013-05-22T11:55:00.001-07:002013-05-22T11:55:43.508-07:00High FiveI volunteer at my daughter's school every once in a while if I can make it work in my schedule. I enjoy it quite a bit because I get a glimpse of her school life and see her in her element. <br />
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This morning, I went again and this sweet classmate of my daughter says,<br />
"Hi Yuki's mom!" which she always does.<br />
"Hi sweetie." Says I, like always.<br />
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Later, she sees me again and says,<br />
"Wait, are you Yuki's mom or..." and I say,<br />
"Yes, I'm Yuki's mom."<br />
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Then she smiles and says,<br />
"My mom always mixes you up with Sophia's mom." <br />
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Sophia's mom is also Asian. But she doesn't look anything like me, of course. <br />
Given that she is a sweet child and this is her mom confusing us and not her, I just said,<br />
"Oh yeah?"<br />
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Then my daughter chimes in and says, "Is it the hair?"<br />
to which the girl replies "Yeah, I think so."<br />
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I am pretty certain the hair is not why the mom confused us, but I wanted to high five my kid for not going to the race assumption and then this girl for agreeing.<br />
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When people make such remarks I always have to stop and think before I react to see if it's a generalized race thing or they are actually onto something. I am proud of myself for not saying "tell your mommy, 'no, that's the other Asian.'" So high five to me too.<br />
<br />Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-14857200733054910462013-05-07T22:02:00.003-07:002013-05-07T22:02:33.731-07:00NoiseOh hi. I didn't see you there. Thanks for still being here despite my spotty attendance.<br />
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We just returned not too long ago from a trip back to Tokyo. Since my mother's passing, I am now making efforts to go there a couple of times a year to be with my father. Not a bad way to go. And April is a lovely time. The weather is mild, often pretty sunny. But because we are now going pretty frequently, I am starting to take note of things that I may have missed when I am too distracted by the big changes. On this trip, the thing I noticed that most was the noise. Japanese people like noise. And all the time. It is probably more prominent in Tokyo but even on TV, we like noise. Let me be specific:<br />
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1. If you go to a mall type of place, every store is blasting music. Stores in the US have music too but this is different. Some stores in Japan will play the most annoying, in your face, loud whatever as if this is a challenge for the shoppers to stay there and buy things.<br />
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2. Probably the noisiest of them all are the electronic stores. We have several chains of these mega electronic shops that has several stores and sells all things electronic. And apparently, they want to turn on every single thing that they are selling and turn it all the way up and just let them go.<br />
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3. Markets. Traditional food vendors bark to call in customers. This is an old tradition. It makes the place lively and each has a very specific pitch of voice they use and what they say. What's funny is that this is now carried through to what we call <a href="http://www.depachika.com/photoflash/261/" target="_blank">Depa-Chika</a> (department store basements), where an amazing array for foods are displayed for purchase. And they are high quality up scale foods but people are barking as if this is an outdoor market. Right around rush hour when housewives are out looking for stuff for dinner is the noisiest because they are pushing some specific items that are on sale that day. This noise, I don't mind so much.<br />
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4. TV. The majority of tv programs play music in the background, except for news--but even news related shows play music in the background while conversations are happening. And sometimes the level is just high enough that I have to strain to hear the dialogue.<br />
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5. Subway stations use to ring this jolting alarm to warn people that the doors are closing. But some time during the past 30 years, they switched it over to some musical tones, and it varies depending on what line you are on or what station. (Or some such thing. There is a whole population of train nerds who can tell you more and better, I am sure).<br />
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<i>See, someone already did this for me. </i></div>
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<i>I don't expect you to sit through all 11 minutes.</i></div>
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All of that is part of the culture, but I wonder why? On one hand, we are known for our Zen gardens and quiet spirits yet we can't seem to part ourselves from noise making. </div>
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During our stay, we took a side trip to Hakone near Mount Fuji. The place is known for it's view and hot springs. My father expressed interest in taking a small trip, so with my brother's family, we went there for a couple of days. We were having a nice lunch by a lake after taking a boat ride (well, it was called a Pirate Ship--not sure why it had such a theme but one does not refuse a chance to go aboard such things, methinks) and it was casual enough place that you ordered and paid for the food up front and they gave you a pager to let you know when it was ready. But it was a pager that beeped. And every single customer had one. So the restaurant not only was playing some muzak but had a constant beeping coming from every table. And to add to this, my 6 year old daughter kept beeping with each beep she heard. It was one of the most noise annoying meals I've ever had in front of a beautiful lake. Not. Relaxing. At. All.</div>
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But then later, we saw this out of our car window and all was restored.</div>
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<i>Ahhhhh</i></div>
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Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-87430938888232955722013-04-01T10:15:00.002-07:002013-04-01T10:15:51.314-07:00Ambivalent <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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I saw this in a store the other day:</div>
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I'm seeing a lot of this type of merchandise lately and I have mixed feelings on it because:<br />
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1. Yay for Japanese things to be considered cute and cool.<br />
2. Things looking slightly off (for example, on the bottom of this plate, it says "sweet" and the upper left, it says "sour." Not quite sure what the hell kind of meal that would be. Then there is that whole Rising Sun military flag situation.)<br />
3. But not so off that they make me angry.<br />
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My daughter loves these kinds of things. She goes right to it and wants them because she relates to all things Japanese (or seemingly Japanese). It's tricky. I don't want to be that mom that is so cranky and nothing but fact based, but at the same time, it is important to me that she knows when these things are not quite accurate. So when we look at such items, I will tell her that they did a really good job with it but this word is a little wrong, or some such things.<br />
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On the big picture, however, my kid is connecting to it and feels proud that she knows something about that culture so that is all good.<br />
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Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-19200257510541969002013-02-18T22:44:00.002-08:002013-02-18T22:44:36.979-08:00Japanese Idol: AKB48<span style="font-size: large;">Perhaps some of you may have seen a <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2013/02/04/world/asia/japan-akb48/index.html?iref=allsearch" target="_blank">story</a> that ran on CNN a couple of weeks ago about a Japanese pop star who shaved her head because she was caught dating someone. Perhaps you did not. Either way, it is time for me to unleash the cultural phenomenon that is AKB48.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But before I get into that, a little background. Japan is coo-coo for id<span style="font-size: large;">ol</span>s. There are several id<span style="font-size: large;">ol</span>-cranking-machine companies that create groups of young men or women, train them to sing and dance, and put them out there as their products. Entertainers in Japan commonly work for a studio/agency and they get paid a salary. It's similar to the studio system that this country used to have for movies. <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">If you wan<span style="font-size: large;">t to be <span style="font-size: large;">a<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> singing star</span>, </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">but you are not a singer<span style="font-size: large;">/</span>song writer or<span style="font-size: large;"> a band, </span></span></span>you can take the idol route and audition for one of these big wigs.<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: large;">A</span>nd if you are lucky enough<span style="font-size: large;"> to pass, </span></span></span></span></span></span>your</span> <span style="font-size: large;">celebrity</span> persona<span style="font-size: large;"> will be </span>totally fabricated by people high up and belong to them to do with <span style="font-size: large;">as</span> they wish. <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Singing abilities are not particularly important and as long as you can move with some semblance of rhythm, <span style="font-size: large;">you quali<span style="font-size: large;">fy--or so it seems. <span style="font-size: large;">The most important part is the look. You have to look your part. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think this idol ph<span style="font-size: large;">e</span>nomenon <span style="font-size: large;">exists</span> because Japan tends to be a high stress culture (from people taking their schools and jobs too seriously)<span style="font-size: large;"> and people </span>need release. <span style="font-size: large;">Drinking hard, eating good food, and singing karaoke are some of the remedies, but TV id<span style="font-size: large;">ols are another <span style="font-size: large;">way. You have something <span style="font-size: large;">p<span style="font-size: large;">leasant to look at and they provide you with some hopes and dreams that they can some day belong to you--no matter how creepy <span style="font-size: large;">that may seem.<span style="font-size: large;"> And that is what they work hard to provide. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My <span style="font-size: large;">analogy</span> aside, idols are just a way of life there and we've had some ebb and flow <span style="font-size: large;">in quality and longevity of such g<span style="font-size: large;">roups</span></span> over the years but it is a constant in our soci<span style="font-size: large;">ety</span>. As for some examples<span style="font-size: large;">, i</span>n the '70s, when I was in elementary school, I was obsessed with two groups. One was Finger 5:</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uu7WBa0ptdQ/USLFGjrSshI/AAAAAAAAAd8/nq7cdOQiH2E/s1600/finger5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uu7WBa0ptdQ/USLFGjrSshI/AAAAAAAAAd8/nq7cdOQiH2E/s1600/finger5.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>Yeah, baby, yeah!</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I loved the<span style="font-size: large;">m</span>, wanted to join the family and go on tour with them. I have heard that they once had a joint concert with the Jackson 5 in a stadium in Tokyo and it sold out. When I heard about this, I was about 25 and was seriously angry that I missed it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then there was Pink Lady:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I loved them, wanted to join the pair and go on tour with them. I knew every song, every choreography (I still know them<span style="font-size: large;">. It'</span>s a scary thing<span style="font-size: large;">.</span>) and spent hours in my room simulating their lives and wearing costumes that I put together. They were a <span style="font-size: large;">n</span>ational sensation. They were together for about 4 years (which is close to my entire elementary school li<span style="font-size: large;">fe, so it felt long back then)</span> but then <span style="font-size: large;">disbanded</span> and <span style="font-size: large;">once they <span style="font-size: large;">disappeared</span> from Japan, they </span>made a brief TV appearance in the US in a variety show called "Pink Lady and Jeff<span style="font-size: large;">."</span> </span><br />
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<i>This is upsetting on so many levels, I can't get into it.</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Needless to say, that didn't go anywhere, but they were super hot once. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">OK, so jump forward to now. AKB48. The current National obsession. AKB stands for <a href="http://www.e-akihabara.jp/en/" target="_blank">Akihabara</a>, an area in Tokyo that is known for selling nothing but electronics and therefore also action figures and comic books to attract all nerds<span style="font-size: large;"> (</span>I took my husband there once and exper<span style="font-size: large;">ienced the <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">cult<span style="font-size: large;">-ish vibe there where men are afraid of real women but can mingle with them if they looked like anime characters.</span></span> <span style="font-size: large;">As a result, there are <span style="font-size: large;">many girls dressed as such giving out flyers to their <span style="font-size: large;">cafes.</span></span></span>) </span></span>And 48 stands for...well, how many of them are in the group. 48 girls. In. One. Group.</span></div>
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<i>They actually hold a record on Guinness book of records. So. Many. Girls.</i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">They are EVERYWHERE. You cannot escape them. There is not a single Japanese person young or old, who doesn't know who they are. I once watched a documentary on how they came about (not sure why) so I now know the whole story and it is an amazing tale of business development. A producer named Yasushi Akimoto, who has cranked out some talents had an idea to develop a girls' group with a concept of "idols you can meet." He went looking for a space in Akihabara, and got a floor of a cha<span style="font-size: large;">in store called </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Don Qui<span style="font-size: large;">x</span>ote </span></span></span>that</span> sells <span style="font-size: large;">a bunch of<span style="font-size: large;"> random stuff<span style="font-size: large;">. </span></span></span>(<span style="font-size: large;">S</span>ide note: I have als<span style="font-size: large;">o taken my husband <span style="font-size: large;">there</span> and it was the loudest, most crammed, h<span style="font-size: large;">yper stimulating shopping <span style="font-size: large;">experience</span> of our lives.) </span></span>Akimoto renovated the space and put a tiny theatre there that would seat only about 100 people and put an ad out for young girls who wanted to sing and dance. He selected about 20 to start and started putting on a </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">very wholesome </span>show <span style="font-size: large;">of many girls</span> in their uniforms. Slowly but surely, nerds started to flock to this place, more girls wanted to join, and it settled into a group of 48. There are upward of 80 plus girls who are "members" but you have to be good to be in the top 48. But even within that, there is team A, K, and B and they rotate to <span style="font-size: large;">accommodate</span> the space and their schedule of <span style="font-size: large;">performing </span>daily<span style="font-size: large;">.</span> Fans c<span style="font-size: large;">a</span>me to see their tiny concert everyday, bought trading cards, collected and traded them, and voted on who they like best. If a <span style="font-size: large;">g</span>irl gets more votes, her s<span style="font-size: large;">pot in the group </span>moves to front and center. So the fans had some power and th<span style="font-size: large;">at <span style="font-size: large;">attracted more nerds to flock together. </span></span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Over the past 8 years or so, they've gained momentum and broke out of their litt<span style="font-size: large;">le place (thou<span style="font-size: large;">gh that still exists and the <span style="font-size: large;">members who are not on TV often still perform da<span style="font-size: large;">ily) and </span></span></span></span>now they appear on top rated shows and crank<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>out albums, all of which sk<span style="font-size: large;">y</span> rocket to the top. And once a year, they have a televised fan-voting event where the top 10 most popular girls get selected. It's like a Presidential Election (well, to a certai<span style="font-size: large;">n demographic)</span>. If you are in t<span style="font-size: large;">he top 10, you get more gigs and if you are <span style="font-size: large;">e<span style="font-size: large;">ven in the top 25, you get better positions for camera<span style="font-size: large;">s</span> on TV, therefore, your chances of getting more votes the next year <span style="font-size: large;">gets high<span style="font-size: large;">er. It's so <span style="font-size: large;">awful</span> yet brilliant.</span></span></span></span></span> Here is footage of their concert with the top girls getting to spread out:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">They maintain a friendly "team spirit" type of attitude on camera </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">at least </span>about each other and they are supposed to stay innocent, therefore they are not allowed to date while they are in the group. Which leads me back to the girl I mentioned at the top. She is <span style="font-size: large;">one of the top 20 girls and </span>broke the rule <span style="font-size: large;">(she was seen coming out of a male singer's <span style="font-size: large;">apartment)<span style="font-size: large;">. T</span></span></span>o apologize, she shaved her head. No one made her. She did it because she felt that is what she deserved. People were like, "um...that was extreme." Seriously. I feel bad for the girl.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">They can also choose to "graduate" the group and become an independent star, which I think is the goal of many in the group. It is a tabloid head line if one of them decides to graduate. I guess Japan is a peaceful country if that is making headlines. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And because of their success, there are now SKE40 (Sakae area of Nagoya), SDN48 (more "mature" girls), NMB48 (Namba area of Osaka), HKT48 (Hakata area of Fukuoka), JKT48(Jakarta, Indonesia), TPE48 (Taipet, Taiwan), and SNH48 (Shanghai, China). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am going to launch SEA48, the Seattle area version <span style="font-size: large;">with</span> 48 girls... who are all 48. Stay tuned. </span></div>
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Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-13857785441326186902013-01-01T22:27:00.000-08:002013-01-01T22:27:18.979-08:00Snake<span style="font-size: large;">2013 is the year of the snake. Snake is the sixth animal in the zodiac. For the zodiac sign of snake, we use a character that looks like this: 巳, which is a different character from when we write the animal snake--such as the Japanese language. The character is said to be modeled after a <span style="font-size: large;">f<span style="font-size: large;">e</span>tus<span style="font-size: large;"> or a</span> </span>snake coming out of the ground, therefore symbolizes new beginning or<span style="font-size: large;"> new <span style="font-size: large;">discovery</span></span>. That meaning is also drawn from the fact that snakes shed their skin. Japanese people also believe snakes to be god's creatures that brings fortune and longevity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">From 2002 to 2010, my mother ha<span style="font-size: large;">d</span> sent me a zodiac animal figure for the following year <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">to be displayed on our mant<span style="font-size: large;">el</span> </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">for Christmas</span></span></span>. <span style="font-size: large;">When she passed away in 2011, she had just two more to go to compl<span style="font-size: large;">ete <span style="font-size: large;">the collection of </span>all 12 animals. I asked my sister in law if she would s<span style="font-size: large;">end me the next two in her place and she kindly obliged. <span style="font-size: large;">A</span> beautiful dragon arrived <span style="font-size: large;">that year and for this year, she sen<span style="font-size: large;">t a very friendly looking snake figure.<span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i><span style="font-size: large;">When I open the bin full of those animals that <span style="font-size: large;">stays in the garage<span style="font-size: large;">, I feel a lot of love from both my mother and then from my sister in law. <span style="font-size: large;">From next year on, I look forward to <span style="font-size: large;">revisiting the animals, thinking <span style="font-size: large;">back to the year my mother sent it to me and thinking about where <span style="font-size: large;">my daughter will be the next time <span style="font-size: large;">we see that animal. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had a odd year last year <span style="font-size: large;">of <span style="font-size: large;">grieving</span> and </span>suffering some more lo<span style="font-size: large;">ss of fr<span style="font-size: large;">iends and colleagu<span style="font-size: large;">es<span style="font-size: large;">. </span></span></span></span>A new beginning is just what I need. And I will write more posts this year, I swear. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Happy New Year to you all. </span><br />
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Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-18600012747446919152012-11-15T21:45:00.000-08:002012-11-15T21:52:07.592-08:00Remembering <span style="font-size: large;">October 5th marked one year since my mother's passing. I can't tell if this past year was fast or slow for me but having survived the first year of grief, I feel an odd sense of relief. I've had waves of emotions in between my normal routine and started to figure out how to exist without a mother. I call my dad about once a week and we chat for about an hour each time and I've noticed that he has also developed his new routine to get through each day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In Japan, there are family gatherings after someone passes away based on the Buddhist tradition--which most people follow. They are on the 7th, 14th, 21st, 28th, 35th, 42nd, and 49th day after their death, with the idea that every 7 days the deceased will stand in judgement in front of a god (like St. Peter) as to weather they can go to heaven. So the families get together and pray for their soul. It's also common that the cremated remains of the deceased will be put into their grave on the 49th day, though in some cases people wait a year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then the tradition continues to families getting together on 1st, 3rd, 7th, 13th, 17th, 23rd, 27th, 33rd and/or 50th year after a person dies. Each time, you go to a temple, a monk will read a prayer, you pay your respect, and you go eat. I remember attending these things for my grandfather on my father's side who passed away before I was born. I found this tradition amazing. It's put together to truly remember someone and honor their life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is a side note, but I recently found out that my father, who was baptized Catholic in his early 70s waited until then--though he had an interest in converting many years prior--because as the first born son he felt obligated to his father to remain a Buddhist until the last of the gatherings (in our case it was 33rd year). This may also have been because there was a huge fight when my father married my mother, a Catholic (they reconciled pretty fast), so he may have felt this to be a respectful gesture to his father, but that's just my speculation.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Being that my family is Catholic (particularly my mother who almost became a nun), none of the above traditions technically apply. But, given that we're Japanese, there is a little bit of a hybrid situation as it did in funeral service. So my father and brother felt it would be good to have a ceremony to mark the first year since my mother's passing with a private mass and a luncheon with close relatives. And at that ceremony, we would put my mother's remains in the crypt, which is located at the church that my family attends (my parents bought a space there some years ago and paid for everything so we wouldn't have to. More on that topic later). So I took a solo trip back for 10 days.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I made a trip back with my family this past spring but it's still strange to stay at my parents' house without my mom. I did not sleep much during my stay and I realized it was partly stress. I was put in charge of sorting and finding ways to get rid of my mother's belongings. I took care of some last fall, right after her death (which was hell), and some this past spring. But the woman owned a lot of stuff so there was still a mountain of things to go through which was also adding to the stress.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then there is the whole inheritance situation.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Let me tell you the complicated, multiple-hoop-jumping process that is international inheritance transactions. First is the obvious division of the estate, which was smooth because my dad, my brother and I get along, THANK GOD. But then, we had an accountant prepare an official document which has to have all of our signatures and official stamp, called "Hanko." Everyone living in Japan has to own one of these that has your name on it in a unique design and that very stamp is registered with your proof of residency. You use Hanko on all official documents and it serves as a notarized document.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ABrKRCntve0/UKPrylgPGFI/AAAAAAAAAb8/O6qUwjb5IHk/s1600/jituin,bankmsyotai.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ABrKRCntve0/UKPrylgPGFI/AAAAAAAAAb8/O6qUwjb5IHk/s640/jituin,bankmsyotai.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Like these. They are all the same name but different designs</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do I have one of these? No. Because while I am a citizen, I am not a resident. So, I have to get my signature notarized where I reside, which is Seattle, and the way you do that is to go to the Japanese consulate. This past spring was all about me and my brother going over multiple bank and investment documents that belonged to my mother, requesting all forms that needs signing (including a document that states that we give my brother permission to be the executor), and carrying those back with me to the States so I can get them notarized. I took a trip to the consulate and just camped out at a window, signing and thumb printing (in place of a stamp) each in front of the staff, who I must say were very kind and patient (I realize that is what they are there for but still). Then I sent them back to my brother via registered mail so he can proceed with moving funds to my bank account in Tokyo. All of this cost about $350 by the way.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">During my last visit to Tokyo I went to my bank and got information on how best to transfer funds internationally (which has different rules according to where you are moving the money--in the case of the US, you have to keep the Patriot Act in mind). I was exhausted. I hope it all goes through before my daughter goes to college.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then there is the matter of the US accounts. My father, being a finance expert is super smart about money and has a couple of US accounts which are joint accounts with my mother. He has to present a death certificate to remove my mother's name from the account, which is of course in Japanese. Most large banks have a Japanese staff somewhere to say that that document is authentic, but just to be safe I called the American Embassy in Tokyo and asked what people do in these situations. They told me that anyone can translate the document, but the translator has to get a notarized paper what states what they translated was true. So I translated the death certificate, made the appointment and took a trip to the US consulate which is located on the same grounds as the embassy I learned and went through so much security, it wasn't funny. I am now an expert on what consulates do in both countries. I should start a service. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I also tackled my mother's belongings with much more momentum than the last two times. We have this custom called "Katami Wake" which translates to "Keepsake gifts" where you share the belongings of the deceased with close friends and families so many people can have a piece from that person. This is obviously a very daughterly task so first took out my mother's jewelry cases and spread them all out on the dining room table. The woman liked to accessorize. "Jeez, mom" I actually uttered. She and I went through things right before she passed away when I was visiting last fall. I took a bunch then. But still there was a ton. I took a couple of more things and then I sorted some stuff for my three nieces to use later. I categorized things by types and made a display. I did the same thing with her purses. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_43IvyylzDk/UKXRNvoRiXI/AAAAAAAAAcs/rxkAhiBXwoc/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_43IvyylzDk/UKXRNvoRiXI/AAAAAAAAAcs/rxkAhiBXwoc/s400/photo+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><i>Do you see what I'm saying?</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then I invited my female cousins
and had a party. I threatened them to take as many things as they
could. They were modest and polite about it but took things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9vPLVg4svy0/UKXRP9CCknI/AAAAAAAAAc0/tuNX4fyFIA8/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9vPLVg4svy0/UKXRP9CCknI/AAAAAAAAAc0/tuNX4fyFIA8/s320/photo+3.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mJnAJ76y-6Y/UKXRR4_EvEI/AAAAAAAAAc8/CUQmBn630tA/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mJnAJ76y-6Y/UKXRR4_EvEI/AAAAAAAAAc8/CUQmBn630tA/s320/photo+4.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>I actually didn't expect my male cousin to take things. However, it's awesome that he took this Egyptian thing saying it would go well with his other Egyptian stuff. Sure. Just take.</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After that, I went through all the rest of my mother's every day clothes that was left and bagged them up and told our very faithful Filipino cleaning lady, who has been working for my parents for years and loved my mom, to take whatever she wanted and she took all the clothes, purses, and the accessories I left out for her. I LOVE HER AND WANT TO MARRY HER. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I wrapped up some others for my aunts which I gave away at the luncheon and one of them busted it open on the spot and put it on her. I also gave away some small items to my close friends who knew my mom since their childhood, which made them happy and very touched.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I read a book called <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Year-Magical-Thinking-Joan-Didion/dp/1400078431" target="_blank">The Year of Magical Thinking</a></i> by Joan Didion last year and in it, she said she held onto one set of clothing and a pair of shoes that belonged her late husband and couldn't put her finger on why until she realized that she was keeping it in case he came back. I can relate to this. It is difficult to get rid of someone's belongings because it's admitting that they are truly gone, and because you feel they might be angry somehow. I keep wondering and hoping my mother approves of the choices I am making, which is silly but is pretty profound. But at the same time, this felt good. Pieces of my mother's spirit was spreading to people who loved her. I would not
have been ready to do this before this point, so it was the right time. I was now entering the next phase of my grief and survival.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I am nowhere near done, but put a pretty good dent in it this time. Maybe it is good to be so far away so I have some distance and time in between these trying tasks. Or maybe that drags out the sadness. Either way, I don't have a choice to do it a little bit at a time. My brother thanked me up and down for taking care of this. I laugh a little at our gender specific roles we've played in this aftermath.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The ceremony was nice and quiet. I cried during the mass all over again. We watched my father put the urn into the designated space in the crypt and I couldn't help but think about some day in the future when we would do this again with my father. We watched the man seal the marble plate with my mother's name on it and it was done.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6af49asPbR0/UKXDHIC7I0I/AAAAAAAAAcM/7YH5Pc1DgZw/s1600/photo+3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6af49asPbR0/UKXDHIC7I0I/AAAAAAAAAcM/7YH5Pc1DgZw/s320/photo+3.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<i>Rest in peace, mom</i></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This was not a restful trip but productive. I cheered up my father just by being there and I took care of things. I also had just enough time to see my friends and shop for my husband and daughter who was lighting the torch and waiting for me back home. I realize I'm lucky I have someone to go home to -- both ways.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u5yOL-eu4mo/UKXRLIH5fiI/AAAAAAAAAck/T9wYlvS3NVE/s1600/photo+1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u5yOL-eu4mo/UKXRLIH5fiI/AAAAAAAAAck/T9wYlvS3NVE/s320/photo+1.JPG" width="240" /></a></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>The street in front of my family's home</i></span></div>
Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-53416160810888142832012-11-06T16:21:00.001-08:002012-11-15T21:50:52.486-08:00Voting<span style="font-size: large;">I've never voted in my life. Not because I don't care, but because of my legal status. I left Japan when I was 15 (way before I took interest in politics), and I was on a student visa from 15 until 24, then on a work visa until 27, then obtained my permanent residency or green card (which, by the way, is not green). As a resident alien (title I love), I can work and therefore required to pay taxes, but two things I can't do is vote and serve on a jury duty. The latter is perhaps a gift in some ways (though I realize it's an important civic duty), in that I can just write "not a citizen" on a post card and not worry about getting out of work or being stuck in a difficult case for days, but the not being able to vote is tough.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Especially today.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There are issues at stake that are important to me and people around me as I have spent nearly 30 years in this country. I wish so much that I could express my voice in a form of a vote, but I can't. People have asked why don't I just become a citizen. It is a logical question to them, but very complicated, emotional question to me and I choke on the answer every time. One is the identity. As most of my family is in Japan, I am still very much connected to my home country, despite the fact that I have been in the US twice as long. I think it's because that is my origin of my being, where I was raised in my formative years, where the house I grew up is (with people who raised and grew up with me in it), and where I go to be with the people who really know my true colors, and ground me in between my adventures. Changing citizenship would feel like I am throwing away all of that and severing my roots from my body. That's not necessarily true and it sounds dramatic, but that is how it feels.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The other is the practicality. If Japan offered the option of a dual citizenship as many countries do, I would probably obtain citizenship in the US. But Japan doesn't, so having a green card is the closest thing to having dual citizenship. Should something happen to my family in Japan, I could go and stay longer than a tourist would be able to and have the rights to do things that visitors don't. Should some situation arise in the US where I felt unsafe, I could take my daughter there. And that is another thing--opportunity for my daughter. Because I am a Japanese citizen and her father is a US citizen, she has both. She can have that until she is 22 and she has to chose. At this point, she is likely to chose the US citizenship which is what I expect and am fine with, but should she choose to go study in Japan during college, she can have the benefit of a citizen and possibly work there, etc. It opens up more choices for her.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Most Japanese people I know in the US keep their green cards like I do for similar reasons. We're not an immigrating people anymore. The wave of Japanese farmers that came over (a.k.a Isseis) in the 1800s came for better life like all the other immigrants. But then there was a period of time in the US that banned Asians from immigrating and after that was WWII when Japanese immigrants and Japanese Americans were interned which caused all kinds of emotional turmoil about where they belong. Then Japan rebuilt during post war and became big and strong (I apologize for this totally over simplified history, BTW) so the need to immigrate went away for the most part. Now, Japanese people who come to the US are either for school or if their company sends them. Most of them go back. Handful of them don't--like me. Coming here changed my life. It opened doors that I couldn't have imagined and it helped me to find who I am. Not to mention I would have never met my husband who thinks I'm funny. That alone is a life changing event. I care deeply for the future of this place and I work hard every day to contribute in gratitude. Yet I have no voice because of the choices I made. It's hard being me, I know.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So I can engage in conversations and perhaps inform people who might be on the fence. I can give money or my time to places that I believe is going to do some good or doing great goods. Maybe things will change for future elections for me but for this one, I have to once again sit on the side line and just route. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Do the right thing, America. I believe in you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-76676577086456125232012-09-13T22:45:00.000-07:002012-09-13T22:46:41.280-07:00Bento Marathon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a8KvwS_OZ94/UEwj149IRXI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/D6I-WBCTgWc/s1600/%E6%97%A5%E3%81%AE%E4%B8%B8%E5%BC%81%E5%BD%93" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think the word "bento" has become somewhat familiar to certain Americans these days. For those who are unfamiliar, bento is a boxed lunch, unique to Japanese culture (if you want to totally nerd out, click <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bento" target="_blank">HERE</a>). As I have written a lot in the past, we take our food seriously and so it is important for us to have good food even when we are on the go. There are all kinds of bento to be had all over Japan for all occasion. But what I want to focus here today is the kind mothers have to pack for their children to take to school. Let me paint you a picture.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Moms in Japan take pride in their cooking. That is not to say that there aren't any dads who cook (for instance, my brother is an excellent cook), but there is an enormous pressure for moms to cook well. And bento that they prepare for their children says everything about how much they care about their children's well being. It is a status thing and a point of pride. And if you don't prepare a perfect bento, you have failed as a mother. That is of course not true, but that is what they think. I have a friend who is a high-powered career woman who gets up at 5:00 a.m. to prepare her daughter's lunch everyday. Then she puts breakfast on the table for her family, gets herself and her daughter ready and puts her on the right train (kids who go to private schools commonly commute on subways--I was one of those kids) and gets in to work by 9:00 a.m. If that were my schedule, I would be asleep at my desk by 9:25. She said she went to the first parent meeting and the teacher said, "You are going to be preparing bento for the next 12 years. Mothers, pace yourselves." This is how seriously moms take it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The most important bento of all during the school year is for the annual Field Day. The whole family comes out to watch various sporting events in which all kids are forced to participate and the bento that each family brings is the statement of the family. Moms have to totally put their game faces on and do some serious cooking to not shame the family.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Up to this point, I did not have to prepare bento on a regular basis because my daughter's Japanese preschool served the most delightful, well balanced, home cooked Japanese meal every day. But that is no longer the case for me BECAUSE MY DAUGHTER STARTED KINDERGARTEN. I realize I live in the States and no one expects me to make a perfect bento everyday (and many won't even know the word), but I feel the need to do at least a decent job in following my cultural tradition. It must be my DNA. So I went to the local Japanese book store and purchased a bento cook book. Yes, there is such a thing and the section on that topic was pretty sizable that I stood there for good 15 minutes selecting just the right book that was at my skill level. </span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R9vrMw5v--Y/UFLAMJhwymI/AAAAAAAAAbM/vStN3TRDg28/s1600/photo%281%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R9vrMw5v--Y/UFLAMJhwymI/AAAAAAAAAbM/vStN3TRDg28/s640/photo%281%29.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Photo of said book</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One of the most common and beloved Bento item is called omusubi or onigiri, which translates to "rice ball." They looks like this:</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w3-9FRGm-q4/UEwkrKCSdtI/AAAAAAAAAaA/Cml505jUYEk/s1600/%E3%81%8A%E3%81%AB%E3%81%8D%E3%82%99%E3%82%8A" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w3-9FRGm-q4/UEwkrKCSdtI/AAAAAAAAAaA/Cml505jUYEk/s400/%E3%81%8A%E3%81%AB%E3%81%8D%E3%82%99%E3%82%8A" width="364" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The standard shape it triangle and we make these by hand. You wet your hands, put some salt on the palm of one hand and scoop some rice onto your hand and gently make this shape with your hands and toss it in circle until it becomes this shape. We all learn to make these at some point in our lives. You can make them plain or put something in the middle, like a small piece of grilled salmon, pickled plum (also shown in the first photo above), and a bunch of other things. You have three of these and can call it lunch. Delicious. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is a side note but we love it so much that convenient stores all over Japan now has a huge section of nothing but these with many different ingredients</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VIIKbq9VIVE/UFLDijVwMFI/AAAAAAAAAbg/RbtpENvt0w4/s1600/konbini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VIIKbq9VIVE/UFLDijVwMFI/AAAAAAAAAbg/RbtpENvt0w4/s400/konbini.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> <i>This is one really delicious and cheap way to eat in Japan, just so you know.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There is a film called <a href="http://www.nipponcinema.com/trailers/kamome-diner-trailer" target="_blank"><i>Kamome Shokudo</i></a><i> (</i>excellent food movie, by the way), in which, the woman who runs the diner refers to onigiri as "Japanese Soul Food." My daughter will always eat these no matter what. So that is the first thing I packed. The important thing in obento is how you present the food. If you want to go nuts, you can do things like this:</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LB07xiGRoaQ/UEwkrdHW0DI/AAAAAAAAAaI/OroL-5Tv6zM/s1600/%E3%81%B2%E3%82%88%E3%81%93%E5%BC%81%E5%BD%93" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LB07xiGRoaQ/UEwkrdHW0DI/AAAAAAAAAaI/OroL-5Tv6zM/s400/%E3%81%B2%E3%82%88%E3%81%93%E5%BC%81%E5%BD%93" width="278" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Who has the time and patience to do this before 8 a.m.?</i></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AKlC7C862wA/UEwktizvjOI/AAAAAAAAAag/Dw5m9WjE78E/s1600/%E3%83%88%E3%83%88%E3%83%AD%E5%BC%81%E5%BD%93" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AKlC7C862wA/UEwktizvjOI/AAAAAAAAAag/Dw5m9WjE78E/s400/%E3%83%88%E3%83%88%E3%83%AD%E5%BC%81%E5%BD%93" width="305" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> <i>OK, this is kind of amazing.</i></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y5nhTee98bs/UEwkuQDx1xI/AAAAAAAAAao/qcXYwbmieH4/s1600/%E7%8C%AB%E5%BC%81%E5%BD%93" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y5nhTee98bs/UEwkuQDx1xI/AAAAAAAAAao/qcXYwbmieH4/s400/%E7%8C%AB%E5%BC%81%E5%BD%93" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Seriously, people need to stop.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Or you can go totally simple and cheap and prepare the most traditional bento:</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M-Jwuuczjks/UFLELQ2CyuI/AAAAAAAAAbo/Lqz_6yRHPIc/s1600/hinumaru.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M-Jwuuczjks/UFLELQ2CyuI/AAAAAAAAAbo/Lqz_6yRHPIc/s400/hinumaru.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>This, I can do.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is called "Hinomaru (Japanese Flag) Bento." It's rice with Ume (pickled plum) in the middle. That's it. This was popular during war time or in the rural country side back in the day. Nothing fancy, just some starch to get through the day. I think the equivalent is like having a boiled potato. Might be just stylish. Or totally unbalanced. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">While I would like my daughter to take joy in eating, I am also realistic and know my limitations so I will do what I can to give her a fun looking lunch. It's a part of my culture I enjoy and want her to also appreciate it, if not now, down the road.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hQRNHTjEuA0/UFK91EQXFcI/AAAAAAAAAa8/Gh52LoCZWNw/s1600/photo%283%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hQRNHTjEuA0/UFK91EQXFcI/AAAAAAAAAa8/Gh52LoCZWNw/s400/photo%283%29.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>What's achievable: salmon musubi, chicken karaage and carrots in stackable bento box </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>How it looked in her lunch box on her first day</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm pacing myself.</span><br />
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<br />Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-90602220970683859422012-08-05T21:37:00.001-07:002012-08-05T21:37:03.143-07:00Olympic Pride<span style="font-size: large;">I love the Olympics. Not to be all cheesy but it's an event in which people feel national pride, root for their country and unite in... well, watching TV, I guess. It's also always eye opening as to where our country stands in comparison to others in the world of sports. And I realize, at the same time, that my world geography is terrible. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It is difficult to catch any footage of Japanese athletes in the U.S. unless they were in the events in which the U.S. was also strong. The first Olympic I experienced here was in 1984, my first summer after moving. I spent 10 weeks working at a horse-back riding summer camp in the middle of nowhere in California because I felt I would lose my freshly acquired English if I went home for two and a half months. I was a nerd. My mother's friend in California who lived near my boarding school recommended this camp to me and there I was, working in the kitchen, cleaning horse stalls, milking cows and mingling with American kids. There was no TV there and we were in bed by 9:00 pm and up by 5:30 am. I was 16 and clearly didn't know better. My mother sent me newspaper clippings of how Japan was doing while it was happening and my parents also recorded the opening ceremony on VHS and sent it to me to watch when I got back to school. I felt removed and home sick, but also was having such a great time that all of that seemed less important than it had been. I kept the clippings in my journal (ah, journal keeping).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Every Olympics since then is just a series of "What's happening with Japan?" I would watch the screen like a hawk to spot a Japanese athlete and track them in the background. If they are close to any Americans competing, I would hang on to every word being said about them. If they did any kind of a feature on a Japanese athlete, I would automatically tear up as if I were related to them. I felt that if TV in the U.S. was mentioning them, my country was noticed at that moment. In occasions like that when you realize how your culture is viewed in a foreign land, you hope that people have a good impression.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then came the winter Olympics in Nagano in '98. I remember that whole "emphasis on the first syllable" pronunciation lessons by NBC and I remember thinking "that's nice that they care." I received a phone call in the midst of that from someone I only sort of knew who put me on the speaker phone to ask what I thought of that. He explained that he was with his colleagues and one of them who is Japanese felt this was not 100% accurate and this sort-of-friend wanted to know my take. I told them that I felt touched that NBC would be so culturally sensitive and put efforts into pronouncing it correctly. I said it's a heck of a lot closer than how it has been pronounced (with the emphasis on the second syllable as that is the natural tendencies for English speakers) and really, who cares? He later told me that this Japanese dude he knew was a total jerk and he wanted another Japanese person to challenge him. Ugh. How embarrassing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I remember watching the opening ceremony, which was oddly in the daytime there to accommodate the prime time TV airing in the U.S. (or some such reason), and was once again beaming with pride. They opened the whole ceremony with a then-famous sumo wrestler who held the highest honor and status as far as athletes in Japan performing a ritual to bless the event.</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4RVSvm8ZOOg/UBtwCAM6QVI/AAAAAAAAAZU/47bF70p5lLk/s1600/98020756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4RVSvm8ZOOg/UBtwCAM6QVI/AAAAAAAAAZU/47bF70p5lLk/s1600/98020756.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>Side note: this wrestler, Akebono, is not even Japanese. He is Polynesian. </i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, so the figure skater Midori Ito lighting the torch was both moving and awkward in that she looked like a super hero yet seemed trapped by her costume:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But it was exciting to witness my home country host this and sad that I was not there to share the Olympic fever. Or buy any goods.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The worst though was the Vancouver Olympics figure skating. If you recall, Kim Yu-Na, super cute South Korean skater took the gold which was unusual and exciting. Mao Asada of Japan took silver. Then a Canadian skater Joannie Rochette took Bronze and because she was local and Kim Yu-Na was sensational, they covered more of those two during the medal ceremony. In fact, there was no shot of Mao Asada. Like she was not there. I actually said, "Oh come on!" Granted, Japan took gold in Turin and we got all kinds of coverage then but still. SHE GOT SILVER AND I THINK YOU CAN MAYBE SHOW HER FOR A SECOND WITH HER MEDAL. Sigh.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This time around, however, technology is on my side. I can now stream Japanese TV in real time on my computer. Not to mention the amount of websites available that will tell me how every athlete from Japan is doing at practically every moment. It is bliss. Of course with all of that PLUS the American coverage, I am not getting anything done but dammit, I am following my fellow countrymen who are doing their thing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Japan has been depressed since the earthquake and there is a lot of "What's going to happen to our country?" feelings floating around so we could use some pep. Just yesterday, in the men's 400 medley relay in swimming, Japan took silver. You may not have noticed this so much because Michael Phelps was also swimming his very last Olympic race and his team took gold. But this silver was huge for Japan. Kitajima, who has competed in the Olympics in the past did not earn any medals this time around and since this was his last one his teammates said, "We can't let him go home empty handed." So they swam hard and won a silver medal for him to take home. See? That is a good story. Thank you, internet streaming.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I am certain that I am not the only one who is rooting for my home country, the U.S. being the melting pot and all. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I can only imagine what technology will provide in the future.</span>Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-12115929044337407992012-07-16T23:01:00.000-07:002012-07-16T23:15:48.321-07:00Country Handbook<span style="font-size: large;">I have an American friend who lived in Japan for several years because her husband is in the Navy. I am not certain how much of this is common knowledge but US Navy and Marine Corps reside in different parts of Japan--when I mentioned this to a coworker she said, "that's creepy." I had to clarify that US is not occupying. It is protecting Japan from places like North Korea (among other things which are not the point of this post). </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, this friend once sent me a card she got from the Navy to carry around that said:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I AM LOST</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">PLEASE HELP ME FIND MY WAY</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">TO IKEGO HILLS-ZUSHI </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">It is conveniently on two sides-one in English and the other in Japanese. I am not certain how they are going to understand any directions given by the native who can only read the Japanese side nor do I understand why they list a phone number on there as if to say people who get lost don't know how to use a telephone and need to ask a native to dial. This card is now posted on our bulletin board next to some comic strips.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Needless to say, I was delighted when the same friend now moving for the second time in US since returning from Japan sent me <i>Country Handbook: A Field-Ready Reference Publication. </i>People, this is a good read. If you want to know Japan in a nut shell, this is the way to go. I have only thumbed through it and have learned a lot about my own country. It has everything from history, culture, geography, religion, government and politics, you name it. But the one I laughed out loud was "Gestures." It says:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The Japanese indicate "come here" by waving the open hand with the palm facing downward, much like Americans wave goodbye. Failing to realize this causes frequent confusion among Americans. It is impolite to make this motion toward a superior. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is true. My husband noticed this watching my brother call his daughters. I did not realize this until he pointed out. Then it says:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The American sign for "OK" forming a circle with thumb and forefinger, means "money" in Japan. The Japanese sign for "no" is to wave the open hand in front of the face, as Westerners do to clear an odor from in front of their faces.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well the "OK" thing is half true. We know it stands for that but it is also true that we use it to indicate money. The waving thing is dead on.<i> </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>When referring to themselves, Japanese will often point to their noses, much like Americans point to their hearts.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I still do this. Can't change it. Again, this is something I didn't realize I did until my husband pointed it out.<i> </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Pointing is considered offensive. Spitting, sniffing or blowing your nose are also considered impolite. Laughter is frequently construed as evidence of embarrassment or nervousness rather than amusement. The shrug, used in the United States to imply indifference, means nothing to Japanese. Neither does winking.</i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Allow me to point out that while it says spitting is impolite, Japanese men spit freely on subway platforms far more than I've seen Americans do. I would add to this list by saying burping is considered impolite and Americans burp far more openly than Japanese. I can't tell you the number of times Americans said to me "don't you guys consider burping a compliment to your cooking?" "No, that's you" I want to say. And the shrug and the winking thing--it's not that we don't know what those are. We've seen it in movies. We do it in OUR movies. People just don't do it. If you do (and you are Japanese) you would be chastised for "trying to appear cool" and are therefore a dork. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Another thing that made me laugh was the section on Prime Minister. It has a picture of Shinzo Abe, who was indeed the Prime Minister in 2007 when this book was published. However, if you know Japan at all, you would know NEVER to commit to doing such a thing because we are notorious for Prime Ministers who quit. Since Mr. Abe, we've had five Prime Ministers. Five. In five years. "We have proven that we don't actually need a Prime Minister to run the country" My brother uttered once. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Might I add, nowhere in this book do they say "under any circumstance, DO NOT PUT CHOPSTICKS IN YOUR HAIR." I clearly need to write for them.</span></div>Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-61483800072525728162012-05-23T23:15:00.001-07:002012-05-23T23:26:22.266-07:00Shellie May<span style="font-size: large;">This is Shellie May:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J3ePUCl276g/T72-8DifkpI/AAAAAAAAAYg/EZ5kdbNf4V8/s1600/%E3%82%B7%E3%82%A7%E3%83%AA%E3%83%BC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J3ePUCl276g/T72-8DifkpI/AAAAAAAAAYg/EZ5kdbNf4V8/s320/%E3%82%B7%E3%82%A7%E3%83%AA%E3%83%BC" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do you know her? I didn't either. How about if I said, she is the girlfriend of Duffy:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cS6RWDG6RwE/T72-8dLpKpI/AAAAAAAAAYo/pse3YlihOCE/s1600/%E3%82%BF%E3%82%99%E3%83%83%E3%83%95%E3%82%A3%E3%83%BC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cS6RWDG6RwE/T72-8dLpKpI/AAAAAAAAAYo/pse3YlihOCE/s320/%E3%82%BF%E3%82%99%E3%83%83%E3%83%95%E3%82%A3%E3%83%BC" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yeah, I know. I had that blank stare too. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I took my family to Japan just few weeks ago to do our annual visit which included checking in on my father and running around hither and yon with my brother to gather various paper work for the inheritance procedure, which stressed me out so much that I broke out in hives. But that is another post altogether. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We had told our 5 year old daughter that we would take her to <a href="http://www.tokyodisneyresort.co.jp/en/tds/index.html" target="_blank">Tokyo Disney Sea</a> this time, since last year we took her to Tokyo Disney Land. I know, the kid is totally spoiled. I also find it amusing that she has only gone to Disney parks in Japan. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I have never been to Disney Sea. It's been open for 11 years and yet I've not gone. I've been to Disney Land plenty. We love Disney Land. We once went there on my husband's birthday and he forced me out of bed at 7am by jumping up and down and we proceeded to spend 12 hours there. Last year when we took our daughter we got to see her tiny mind blow up when she saw Cinderella's castle. It was like a commercial. So we were excited to go. Before we went, we spoke to my three nieces ages 19, 17, and 12 to get the low down. They coached us on which rides are good for a 5 year old, which rides are likely to have a long wait but are fun, what food to get, etc (by the way, the Gyoza Dog by 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea ride is not to be believed). Then they said, "are you gonna buy her Shellie May or Duffy?" and I just stared at them. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Who are they?" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"You don't know who they are?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"No."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Aren't they Disney characters?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I have no idea. Are they?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then my sister-in-law, who was listening laughed and said,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Is it possible they just made them up for Disney Sea and are not actually based on any stories?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then my youngest niece Ayana told me the whole deal. Shelly Mae and Duffy are apparently the toy bears Minnie made for Mickey. Nope. Doesn't ring a bell. I'm not saying it didn't happen, I just don't know about that story. Then she went on to say that they are THE things to buy at Disney Sea (but not at Land), and if you own them, you bring them there to show off to people that you have them. I said "I see...well, that sounds pretty silly."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She was right.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It is the most brilliant and frightening marketing tactic I've seen. I know we're talking about Disney so I shouldn't be surprised, but the amount of those bears carried by people at the park was incredible. It was also like a sociology experiment in how to make people feel left out. And we went on a weekday after a holiday in Japan so the park was pretty empty. The people who were there were young couples playing hook and college kids playing hooky, and some families with young children. But the majority of people there were adults. Carrying bears. Before you judge, let me explain (though I was judging throughout the park).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Japanese people like cute things. If you know of any Japanese stationery goods, it's stuff with cute cartoon animal characters on them. We like things that are compact and cute. Even grown men like cute things. Look at Anime. Cute things are not just enjoyed by kids, but by all ages. I have no idea why this is. Maybe because we take work and life so seriously that we find some odd comfort in looking at cute things. Similarly, Japanese people like to drink even though we process alcohol very poorly (hence, I don't drink). It is a sight to see when you get on a subway in Tokyo at 11:00 p.m. and it is PACKED with drunk people and people who just got off work. Good times. Japanese people also obey trends. If enough people wore underpants on their heads, the whole country would follow suit.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: smallest;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, this obsession with cuteness is particularly spread amongst young women in their late teens to early twenties. There are girls who actually believe that Micky Mouse lives at Disney Land and they come with a back pack with 25 Mickey key chains dangling from it and wear Mickey ears and carry serious Nikon cameras and take photos of him (not WITH him) like he is an actual celebrity. Creepy. I felt weird being the only one around who actually had a child who wanted to take a picture with him. And along with that are people with Shellie May and Duffy obsessions. I saw so many couples who wore matching mouse ears and carrying those bears I wanted to punch them. I kind of get young women doing that but I wanted to go up to the men and shake them and shout, "JUST LOOK AT YOURSELF!" I'm sure that is very sexist, but <i>come on</i>!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-odZVqcbBkks/T73H1PcyvzI/AAAAAAAAAY0/T4RhEfFwnmo/s1600/DSC_0834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-odZVqcbBkks/T73H1PcyvzI/AAAAAAAAAY0/T4RhEfFwnmo/s640/DSC_0834.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Donald surrounded. If you look closely, the girl just left of Donald is wearing Mickey ears AND carrying a Shellie May purse.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y01VRKUQw5E/T73H2phHIFI/AAAAAAAAAY8/jtaXXKut_1I/s1600/DSC_0870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y01VRKUQw5E/T73H2phHIFI/AAAAAAAAAY8/jtaXXKut_1I/s640/DSC_0870.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>There are various spots at the park where you are supposed to perch your bear and take a photo of the scenery.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>On it, it says "For their safely, do not seat children here." </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, after about 6 hours of being there, our 5 year old said she wanted Shellie May. Great. We had told her that we couldn't buy a bunch of stuff for her because going there was expensive on its own, but that we will buy her one thing. So we couldn't really argue with her. We went to a store and she immediately grabbed one that was dressed in the most hideous pink dress. I looked at the price tag and it was nearly $40 so we started showing her smaller, slightly more tasteful ones but her lower lip was begin to quiver so just from pure exhaustion, we compromised and got her a bigger one but without the dress. As we spent the next two hours at the park with Shellie May before heading home (because our daughter wanted to make sure Shellie May got to ride all the rides, too), we realized that her face and paw prints are shaped like Mickey's head. </span><span style="font-size: small;">Creeeeepy. </span><span style="font-size: small;">Also, she is tinted pink. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So we now have one. I am not going to bring this bloody bear back to Tokyo Disney Sea, but then maybe I should so that I won't get roped into buying another. </span><br />Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-35403353938585976302012-04-06T20:22:00.007-07:002012-04-07T00:23:32.151-07:00Sakura<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">There are several customs in Japan about admiring the changing of seasons. One of the biggest celebrations around this motif is cherry blossoms. As it is the flower that symbolizes Japan, my people are very serious about viewing and appreciating the beautiful trees that tell us the beginning of things.<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Spring (April to be specific) is the beginning of school year. Most businesses also run their fiscal year from April to March and welcome in new recruits in April. With the budding of flowers, we celebrate new beginnings. March, on the other hand is the end of a cycle. Graduations happen then and as some cherry trees start to bloom, we associate the falling pink petals with the bittersweet feeling of saying good byes to our friends. Super poetic and melancholy. I can't tell you how many songs have been written with this theme (see below video as one example).<br /><br />Then there is the HANAMI tradition. The word HANAMI translates to "flower viewing" and it is thought to be a very peaceful custom of having a nice picnic and and enjoy the blossoms. Lovely. You'd think that. Until you see the complete mayhem that is, actually, the friggin' "flower drinking." I will preface by saying that this may just be in Tokyo--for that is a city which will change your concept of "crowded." Japanese people by nature are raised to follow the trend and be like everyone else. This flower viewing thing is something you just do no matter what the cost. Please take a moment to picture in your head the hundreds and thousands of people who shove each other without any mercy on subways fighting to get the best spot under trees in parks. If companies decide to do an outing around this event, the newest employees are sent out HOURS ahead with a tarp to secure a good spot. Then they are chastised if they fail. If that's not bad enough, people bring so much booze it turns into a complete nightmare. It does not matter whether there are children around. Business men and women with their suits disheveled are stumbling around the park in broad day light. Attractive.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L8HtNLVWGJQ/T3_YUmfFkqI/AAAAAAAAAXM/WAcINu1E6W8/s1600/hanami"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L8HtNLVWGJQ/T3_YUmfFkqI/AAAAAAAAAXM/WAcINu1E6W8/s320/hanami" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728535099478479522" border="0" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">So.Very. Crowded. </span><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I, fortunately, did not experience much of this as I grew up because I had parents who did not feed into this kind of shenanigans. I spoke to my father just yesterday and he said he might ask a friend out to go to this restaurant that has a garden with cherry trees and they apparently serve special meals around this time of year. They even light up the tress in the evening and you can have a nice quiet dinner looking at the blossoms. Now THAT, I approve. He went on to say how much cherry blossoms there are in Tokyo and you don't realize it until they bloom. He spoke with a lot of excitement in his voice about how beautiful it is right now. In the same conversation, he also mentioned that this year commemorates the centennial celebration of Japan's 3,000 cherry trees that were given to the US in Washington DC. "What a perfect gift we gave," he said proudly. My heart warmed to hear that spring had arrived to my father, who lost his companion last year, and that he was noticing and enjoying it.<br /><br />Mayhem aside, I have to say I do appreciate that my culture puts a great deal of importance on nature's beauty. Just today, there were five posts on Facebook from my childhood friends in Japan as they photographed their nearby cherry blossoms, and I imagine more will trickle in. Those photos have reminded me that it's something to take notice for my people. Our neighbor has three cherry trees in front of her house and every year I look out the window and think of my graduations past and get a little nostalgic.<br /><br />I leave you with a song that was made popular almost 10 years ago called, </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >Sakura</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> (cherry blossom) by a singer song writer, Naotaro Moriyama. The song (as you will see in the subtitle) expresses the feelings of graduation as I mentioned above. He is backed by a high school choir from Miyagi, where the earthquake hit hast year. Their collaboration makes the song even more meaningful, and the images shown here are when it's not crazy--as it's intended.<br /><br />I wish you happy Spring.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1jBctq0uoU8?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="560"></iframe><br /></span></div></div></div>Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-12723849558088458212012-03-11T21:42:00.014-07:002012-03-11T22:37:34.911-07:00One Year Later<span style="font-size:130%;">It has been one year since Japan encountered earthquake and tsunami that took the lives of nearly 20,000. I did some things in my small ways last year, but I have not continued by efforts since because of my own tragedy. I would like to contribute again and continuously towards this seemingly endless recovery process.<br /><br />I realize many things have happened since then. But if you could take a moment to think of the victims and perhaps contribute to appropriate organizations (such as <a href="http://www.redcross.org/">American Red Cross</a>-Japan Disaster Relief, or <a href="http://www.peace-winds.org/en/">Peace Winds)</a>, I would be so grateful.<br /><br />I pray and hope for Japan. I have faith.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M2jDTM_TIN8/T12LUAmWgEI/AAAAAAAAAWY/9RHdso9wYig/s1600/Japan-marks-1-year-since-quake-tsunami-RQ14HCDV-x-large.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M2jDTM_TIN8/T12LUAmWgEI/AAAAAAAAAWY/9RHdso9wYig/s320/Japan-marks-1-year-since-quake-tsunami-RQ14HCDV-x-large.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718880277704900674" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Photo by Greg Baker, AP</span><br /></span></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wt9vH_gH6ho/T12H2b7iQLI/AAAAAAAAAWM/BUAVVRHZaYU/s1600/la-0104-pin01.jpg"></a>Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-74038529529811653782012-02-21T11:00:00.012-08:002012-02-25T01:06:20.608-08:00Translation<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;">A few days ago, I took my daughter to go see </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" ><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1568921/">The Secret World of Arrietty</a>, </span><span style="font-size:130%;">the newly released film by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Studio_Ghibli">Studio Ghibli</a>. I can do a whole other post on the world of Miyazaki/Ghibli films for I am a total nerd, but today, I am going to touch on translations and casting that I find interesting when these films cross the ocean.</span><br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">When I see</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">a Japanese film with English subtitles, or vice versa, </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I listen and read at the same time to see how things are translated.</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Depending on the nature of the film, sometimes lines are totally altered to get the humor across or to explain what people of that particular culture take for granted. In Miyazaki's <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0245429/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Spirited Away</span></a>, which was the first of his films to get a wide theatrical release in the US, there was a lot of that because while the setting was fantastical, the notion of a bath house and different kinds of gods are imbedded in Japanese culture. There was also the whole thing about the protagonist's name. Her name is Chihiro, written in Japanese as 千尋. In the Japanese version, Yubaba (the witch) takes away the second character and leaving her with just 千, pronounced Sen. In the complicated written language that we have, every character has at least two pronunciations--the Japanese and the Chinese. So the first character of her name went from being pronounced one way to another. And it made sense in Japanese, that she took away part of her name and the sound changed. I was curious to see how that would get translated and it was just that she took away her name and gave her a new one. I don't blame them because how do you explain THAT? But in other, less complicated situations, I was also mighty impressed as to how Disney snuck in a word here and a sentence there to casually explain the setting.<br /><br />Something else I learned when I read an interview of a very famous Japanese subtitle writer/translator is that in the case of subtitles, you have to condense a phrase into something like six words at a time (or less) or human brain won't process it. Now, that is hard because you have to not only be concise, but also translate all the nuance in that one phrase. In the case of a voice over, the length of the lines has to match the movement of the mouth, I imagine--which is differently challenging. There is an art to it, for sure.<br /><br />In the case of </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >The Secret World of Arrietty, </span><span style="font-size:130%;">there was not too much cultural confusion because the base story of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Borrowers </span>originated in England. But, as I was watching the film in English, I noticed something that is very Japanese in this version that I did not pick up when I watched it in Japanese. Nodding. Japanese people nod a lot. If you see us talking from a distance, you can tell we are Japanese because we nod constantly. We nod often when we listen as if to say "uh-huh," and we nod to punctuate things while we talk. And when we are in the listening side, there is a sound that accompanies it, which is, "m." This is slightly challenging to translate because Americans don't nod at the rate that we do. In the film, sometimes nodding was left silent. Other times, nodding was given some grunting sound, and in others, given a short word or sound like "hmmm." I was imagining the team of translators figuring out what to give to which and was appreciative and entertained by the choices they made.<br /><br />Then there is casting. I'm always interested in how Disney casts these films knowing the kind of voices and celebrities they use in Japan. </span><span style="font-size:130%;">I think they do a pretty noble job of matching the voice quality and finding similar personalities of the Japanese actors for the most part. </span><span style="font-size:130%;">As animated films in the States do, Miyazaki gets people who are right for the part but also has some name recognition--lately, anyway. </span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-411ynuxcmig/T0icvbce8bI/AAAAAAAAAVw/anKanW_FgYs/s1600/t_yamaguchi_05.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 187px; height: 137px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-411ynuxcmig/T0icvbce8bI/AAAAAAAAAVw/anKanW_FgYs/s320/t_yamaguchi_05.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712988465954484658" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">They are not always the most popular at the time, but they are people who have made a mark playing a certain type of role. For example, in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0876563/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Ponyo</span></a>, the role of the mother was voiced by Ritsuko Tanaka (see left), who in the '90s was known for playing young, career women who were funny and independent and "one of the guys," kind of characters women aspired to be. In the States, that voice was Tina Fey.<br /><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0347149/"><span style="font-style: italic;">In Howl's Moving Castle</span></a>, </span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6Hp8Jah1H7g/T0icC9hQaKI/AAAAAAAAAVk/m_BE5rZirtc/s1600/Takuya_Kimura_10161_392.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 162px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6Hp8Jah1H7g/T0icC9hQaKI/AAAAAAAAAVk/m_BE5rZirtc/s320/Takuya_Kimura_10161_392.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712987702007195810" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Howl was voiced by Japan's super star hunk, Takuya Kimura (see right--Incidentally, he is my total guilty pleasure but that is also another post). In the States, it was Christian Bale (I'm not gonna lie. I think he is also hunky).</span> <span style="font-size:130%;">See what I mean?</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I like to give my stamp of approval. Like anyone cares. That would be one of my dream jobs--to cast the US voices for Miyazaki film. But I digress.<br /><br />Here is the trailer in Japanese:<br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/IXbPh_Jy4P4?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="560"></iframe><br /><br />And here it is in English:<br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/4iwF6QJYyBc?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="560"></iframe><br /><br />You can see their efforts. It's fun for me to experience Japanese films in the theatre in the US. I watch the audience's reaction as if I made the film--it's National pride, or something. I pay attention to what people find funny or not funny and how they seem to like it. Miyazaki seems to now have quite the fan base here so the audience for his films are ready to like it, which is nice. I once saw an interview with <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0005124/">John Lasseter</a> who said that when artists at Pixar get stuck on a project, they pop in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0096283/"><span style="font-style: italic;">My</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Neighbor Totoro</span></a> for inspiration. That's saying something.<br /><br />As we were leaving, I asked my daughter which version she liked. She thought for a moment and said, "Japanese," which is interesting because she has a better comprehension of English than Japanese. Perhaps it's because she saw it in Japanese first. Or maybe because she felt that was right. I'm OK with that.</span><span style="display: block;font-size:130%;" id="formatbar_Buttons" ><span onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);" class=" down" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link"><img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" alt="Link" class="gl_link" border="0" /></span></span>Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-78326249175006051742012-01-16T21:24:00.000-08:002012-01-16T21:59:55.957-08:00Snow Man<span style="font-size:130%;">In the United States, snow man is made typically with three snow balls, like such:<br /></span><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vBfUts5h1IU/TxULxNqbBeI/AAAAAAAAAUY/bpc23obAsIk/s1600/Auburn_Alabama_Snowman_2009.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vBfUts5h1IU/TxULxNqbBeI/AAAAAAAAAUY/bpc23obAsIk/s320/Auburn_Alabama_Snowman_2009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698473843616318946" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">In Japan, snow man is typically made with two snow balls, like such:</span><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tySB4rrdg4M/TxUMUctsQ7I/AAAAAAAAAUk/td6AD9Reb9E/s1600/%25E9%259B%25AA%25E3%2581%259F%25E3%2582%2599%25E3%2582%258B%25E3%2581%25BE"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tySB4rrdg4M/TxUMUctsQ7I/AAAAAAAAAUk/td6AD9Reb9E/s320/%25E9%259B%25AA%25E3%2581%259F%25E3%2582%2599%25E3%2582%258B%25E3%2581%25BE" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698474448951985074" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I have to say, perhaps this stemmed from our body types and find it kind of amusing.<br /><br />Also, kids in the U.S. draw yellow sun:</span><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AV1lsgHmthM/TxUNfqMEkJI/AAAAAAAAAVI/igx_fBTVB_E/s1600/sun_11.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 173px; height: 182px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AV1lsgHmthM/TxUNfqMEkJI/AAAAAAAAAVI/igx_fBTVB_E/s320/sun_11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698475741059256466" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Kids in Japan draw red sun:<br /></span><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AQ5F0zKGoLs/TxUNNV0WboI/AAAAAAAAAU4/K1p_OVzH6yw/s1600/sun.japanese"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 237px; height: 212px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AQ5F0zKGoLs/TxUNNV0WboI/AAAAAAAAAU4/K1p_OVzH6yw/s320/sun.japanese" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698475426353409666" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">My hybrid child draws it with a yellow crayon even though she goes to a Japanese preschool.<br /><br />Go figure.</span>Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-48297027141273058792012-01-09T14:34:00.000-08:002012-01-09T14:48:30.380-08:00AwesomeOn the way to Santa Barbara airport, we blew past this lovely little hut. I screamed at my husband to stop and turn around the car so I can take a picture.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TbTL-t3LpKQ/Twtr0jhgYlI/AAAAAAAAAUM/gmNdwPjiCao/s1600/orient.laundry.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TbTL-t3LpKQ/Twtr0jhgYlI/AAAAAAAAAUM/gmNdwPjiCao/s320/orient.laundry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695764704373269074" border="0" /></a><br />That's right. It says, "Orient Laundry." Love that Chop Suey font. Totally reminds me of the Chinese characters from <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0062362/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Thoroughly Modern Millie</span></a> who kidnaps orphan ladies, put them in the laundry hamper and sell them to slavery. Awesome. <br /><br />Sadly, this joint is closed. Otherwise, I would commute from Seattle to get my laundry done here.Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-29426738203335058952012-01-01T00:17:00.000-08:002012-01-02T20:44:10.084-08:00Restart<span style="font-size:130%;">In my culture, people who are in mourning are not supposed to say "Happy New Year." New year's cards is are big tradition (like Christmas cards here), but if you lose a family member, you are supposed to send out "I'm in mourning" announcements prior to the timing of New Year's cards so that people won't send you anything that indicates celebration. I am in that group this year.<br /><br />2011 was difficult. From the earthquake to my mother's death, it was a year that challenged my mental and physical strength in stress, concern, grief, obligations, and sleepless nights. But because of that it was a year that I also experienced a lot of love in my marriage, my child, friendship and community. It was a year of great loss and confirmation that I am blessed.<br /><br />So as I look forward to 2012, the year of the dragon, I hope to nurture the connection I established with people and slowly regain my strength to grow bigger and stronger for the next challenge.<br /><br />I wish you a good, healthy, peaceful year.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_XW0zxXZOEc/TwAfreOOLuI/AAAAAAAAAUA/Yw__8xlqGto/s1600/%25E8%25BE%25B0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_XW0zxXZOEc/TwAfreOOLuI/AAAAAAAAAUA/Yw__8xlqGto/s320/%25E8%25BE%25B0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692584760703856354" border="0" /></a></span>Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6512750930160558383.post-85717544518714767732011-12-29T22:02:00.000-08:002011-12-29T22:09:11.079-08:00At Least They Thought Of Us (?)Just after Christmas, we were at a Target and my husband spotted this lovely ornament:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wT0NU3E_aSI/Tv1UozHg3mI/AAAAAAAAAT0/EYy701EbsOo/s1600/ornament.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wT0NU3E_aSI/Tv1UozHg3mI/AAAAAAAAAT0/EYy701EbsOo/s320/ornament.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5691798563959397986" border="0" /></a><br />I don't even know where to start. It's like a tiny character from Mikado. I would call this "an Oriental ornament." Or perhaps, "Orinament." We should have bought it.<br /><br />Thank you, Target.Mimzillahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14179978425159557309noreply@blogger.com2