Money For Nothing and the Chicks For Free

Tiger Woods is indeed in dire straits.

After years of slumming through the refuse piles of human mind waste that call themselves celebrity “news” outlets, you would think I would be immune to shocking stories of marital betrayal. (Friends, I have a confession. I have not been true to my values and the behavior my family deserves. I regret my past and ongoing transgressions. I read People Magazine Online. Twice daily.)

This current fiasco surprised me greatly…but not because a sports figure was discovered hiking the proverbial Appalachian Trail. I mean, who can take another story about a married, powerful man who is worshipped like a golden calf and then publicly humiliated for not staying true to his stunning and charming wife? (Yawn.)

No, I think it’s the magical thinking swirling around his “transgressions” that befuddles me the most. This fantasy world, where most celebrities live, allows its inhabitants to think that they can actually get something for nothing. All they have to do is walk a red carpet, play a game well and show up to make commercials for junk no one actually needs. In return, they receive obscene amounts of money and endless public adoration (sexual and otherwise). That ain't working.

So when they have to give something valuable back, like their privacy, they just can’t understand why people are so demanding. It’s not “right” to expect people to have no private life. However, it’s also not right that anyone is paid that much to play a game while cancer remains uncured and people are starving. But, as they say in the real world, it is what it is.

The evasion of the inevitable and the whining about the way things are irritates the common folk, like me. If you want true privacy, stop selling yourself. Conversely, if you want to sell yourself, brace for the crash when the siren calls of wealth, privilege and adulation inevitably trick you into running into the rocks.

In the end, we all have choices. For better and (especially) for worse, we should be responsible for them.

And if we aren't, we should prepare for those straits to not only be dire, but downright ugly.

Turning 40: On Not Teaching a New Dog Old Tricks

So today is my fortieth birthday. As I was falling asleep last night, my dear but annoying husband asked me if I had been pondering the significance of the occasion. I quickly mumbled "no" (had a mini-breakdown), rolled over and started to enjoy my 7 hours of mindless bliss.

I woke up to homemade cards and frozen waffles charmingly cut into the shapes of a four and zero. My card from the eldest said, "40 at last!", like I had been waiting for this momentous occasion my whole life. Oooh, if I were only 40, then I could really enjoy all those adult privileges like paying taxes and helping my kid learn her times tables. Yes, at last, I can start (most probably) the last half of my existence!

At last.

Chuckling, I thought about this statement while driving to teach English this morning. As I passed the tollbooth that asked me to "Please Take a Ticket!" in a rather snippy tone, I pondered what idiom I would review with my group today. Perhaps I would revisit the classic adage: "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." For some reason, this phrase always cracks my Japanese students up. Not only is it pertinent to their time in life (they are all retirees) but unfortunately, it now seemed to fit my situation as well.

I don't feel like an old dog, though.

I want to learn new tricks, like surfing and getting lost in places where I can't read the signs and serving others before myself. For the first time in my life, I feel comfortable in my skin, so much so that the vellum wrapping my bones actually seems new and different.

I'm also fairly tired of the old tricks. I'm not interested in keeping up with the Joneses and their premium vehicles. I don't care if their child learned her times tables in first grade and mine is still struggling to get it in the fifth. At least at this point, I'm against fake boobs, fake tans and cosmetic surgery for myself. This is me, lumps, white wrinkles and all. Take it or leave it.

I am literally exhausted of fearing life and other people's judgment about my choices and my body. Those are old tricks to keep the younguns in line and they are losing their persuasive power in my world. Frankly, I don't care what religion people follow or what their exterior life looks like. If fear informs their faith or their actions, I've decided to politely agree with whatever the person is saying/doing and move along to greener pastures. I literally don't have time to waste on nurturing relationships with people who are convinced that their way is perfect, or even worse, the only path to follow.

Don't get me wrong. In the end, I have no desire to go back to being "young", either in mind or body. Sure, it's important to stay in shape in my later years but it's not okay for me to obsess about my every body part. I am also still trying to shed those last vestiges of thinking I know everything...of thinking that my opinion actually affects anyone besides myself and my kids (for a few more years).

After much pondering, I've decided that I don't want to be a puppy.

I just want to be a new dog...one who loves to attempt novel things and fails often. And one who, at last, no longer gives credence to the old tricks that have kept her from growing up.

Very Strange Things, Indeed

Last Tuesday, I went to Zushi to teach my class of retirees like I always do. Things progressed fairly normally--we talked about the Japanese elections, completed a vocabulary drill on strange jobs (it's really difficult for the Japanese to say "hypnotherapist") and took a small break. Afterwards, the students usually each take 5 minutes to tell about their week. Topics usually cover mundane and safe events like grandchildren visiting and places people have just toured.



But this week's discussion went into uncharted territory:

• One woman's deceased mother-in-law visited her during Obon (the Japanese holiday honoring dead anscestors, so that makes sense). In the middle of the night, she heard her MIL approach her bedroom door and then felt her "eyebeams" staring at her through the wood. As she is accenting her vocabulary choice by making motions with her fingers from her eyes to across the room, I felt perplexed. "Eyebeams" didn't seem like the best word but I couldn't figure out a superior one, so "eyebeams" rested as is. However, now I have a vision of a laser-eyed decrepid Japanese grandma taking out my friend in her sleep. She swears she "felt no fear" but I really can't say the same.


• Her husband, the ghost's son, slept through the whole thing.


• Another woman, quite delicate and soft-spoken as well, launched into a story about an accidental run-in with her next door neighbor's son while walking her dog in the wee hours of the morning. After 29 years, he apparently has suddenly decided to start wearing women's clothes in public. She reported that he was wearing a "nice skirt" and "carrying a high quality handbag". People stopped examining their fingernails and started peppering her with questions. Although there are few American sexual/puritanical hangups in Japan, they love to hear about people behaving strangely.


• Yet another lady exclaimed that she had nothing to offer that week but then described the juicy gossip surrounding Mr. Hatoyama, the new Prime Minister, and his wife. Not only was Miyuki Hatoyama married to a lowly sushi bar owner in the states many years ago, but horror of horrors, she divorced him to marry the prime minister. Divorce is a big no-no in Japanese politics.


• ...and so is reporting extraterrestrial sightings. Mrs. Hatoyama, Japan's new First Lady, wrote a book twenty years ago called Very Strange Things I've Encountered, in which she swears her soul was transported to Venus via a "triangular-shaped UFO". This woman is Japanese and was raised in Japan. Did she miss the ubiquitous memo stating "the nail that sticks up is the first to get hammered down"?

Well, it's probably only a matter of time before it's revealed that the new Prime Minister is a cross-dresser and the collective cultural "eyebeams" zero in on his wife. When this story breaks in the main news outlets...please remember: You read it here first.

Second Spring

Motley crews probably shouldn't look so content with life...but these folk are a) retired Japanese b) full of barbequed sea creatures and c) completely wasted on Sam Adams beer.

Our Zushi friends invited Tim and me to a summer barbeque at the marina, partly in honor of his safe return from his seven month tour in Kuwait. A warm day in the sun by the sea with good friends is truly a slice of heaven on earth, especially if they feed you delicious japanese cuisine for three hours straight.

In this petite cultural exchange, both nationalities learned new phrases. During a conversational lull, my gaze wandered to the sun reflecting off the Zushi Bay, the light magically changing the water's surface to hammered silver...so beautifully faceted and dazzling, it momentarily mesmerized me. After I "came to" from my brief revery, I gave a deep sigh, took a swig of my cold green tea, turned to my friend Hiranosan and said, "THIS IS THE LIFE!"

A quizzical look followed. I explained that this English expression is something we say when we are completely comfortable and happy, without a care in the world. (Usually, alcohol and views of the ocean appear in this scenario. But not always.) He nodded enthusiastically, complete understanding lighting up his eyes. "Nancysan!", he exclaimed (Hiranosan exclaims everything), "This is the life of retirement! It is our second spring!"

A Second Spring. What a lovely thought. After the long, hard, hot work of summer comes another chance for refreshment and new growth.

For Japanese people, who generally wake at 6AM, jump on a train at 7AM, spend two hours commuting, 10-12 hours working, 2 hours enterataining clients in the bars after work, and then 2 more hours commuting home, retirement is a chance to live life freely for the first time since childhood. They sail, fish, play golf and tennis, take English lessons and generally enjoy life to the fullest.

I look forward to this carefree existence that hopefully awaits Tim and I in our "golden" years.

Until then, I will enjoy the mini second springs that life awards us along The Path--blessed reunions with my husband after anguishing months apart and joyous get-togethers with all our friends, near and far, who bring us spiritual refreshment, no matter how long it's been since we last enjoyed their company.

A Turning Towards

Konnichiwa! It's been a while. I must thank those of you who have contacted me wondering when the next post would be up...it's nice to be missed. I really don't have much of an excuse except to say that I just didn't feel like writing for the last month. And I love writing. For some reason, for the last few weeks, it was the last thing I wanted to do.

I miss home...not just the home in the states and its insane conveniences (underwear in my size, a vast array of non-fugly shoes, decent pizza) but also the home in my heart. I miss my family and friends in the U.S. But most of all, I miss my husband immensely.

Many of you know that he has been deployed to the Middle East for many months and has quite a few to go. In typical nancyb fashion, I was super organized the first few months of single parenthood. I planned out meals in advance, laundered clothes regularly, and filled the wipe-off activity board on the back of the front door with oodles of Best Laid Plans.

Five months later...my teenager is reminding me to go to the grocery store in the same fashion I nag her to do her homework. I can barely open the door to my laundry room, it's so overstuffed with piles of dirty laundry. The blank activity board constantly reminds me that Entropy, the natural turning of order towards disorder, is not just a scientific theory.

Even though this may be a "natural" process, it still bothers me. This "turning towards" a new state of being can be adventuresome when it means shrugging off the expectations of a former way of life and discovering the pleasures of a new culture, a new way of living. I like getting lost from order because I am generally at ease with chaos. Afterall, this is one of the main reasons I love living in Japan.

Ah, but turning towards something invariably means you are turning away from something else. When chaos means a turning away from an ordered heart...that is a different story. My husband's love is like a well organized shelf in my heart. I know where his unending patience goes, his goofy humour, his amazing intellect, his undying commitment to me and the girls. Every day, I reach in there for more provisions and they are always in the same place--I can find them without even looking.

Some people may get caught up with creating immaculately stocked pantries or closets with rows and rows of designer handbags and shoes all displayed in picture perfect symmetry. Whatever. I know what true luxury is.

Recently, I have found that distance does nothing to diminish or rearrange the space this type of extravagance creates in the human heart. But distance does seem to change how to access it...I get so caught up in keeping up with the girls and dinner and work and volunteer projects, that I sometimes forget to go there. Without hugs and face to face contact, I am not as easily reminded to enter that space and take what I need. I start to rely on my own stores of strength, in my own private rooms. That feels empowering--for a little while.

Then suddenly, life just seems chaotic and out of control. Nothing makes much sense.

So now I am faced with making sense of it...turning away from the chaos and towards the inherent order within it. Military life can be hard but the personal hardships it creates force me to seek what is rock solid in my real life. The laundry might take over, the dinner might not be home cooked, but at least I know that I can depend on my husband no matter what. He is always there even when he is not. I cherish that dependence and I literally ache for its return...

And, hopefully, when it does return, it will want to throw a load in and whip up a gourmet meal.

Japan: Even Our Undead are Cute

I have almost finished reading the Twilight series. Perhaps now I can return to my regularly scheduled programming, i.e. life in general.

As with most topics these days, I wonder if and how Eastern thinking differs from the west concerning mythical creatures like vampires. I figured that if Big Foot doesn't exist in these parts, then vampires probably don't hold too much sway, either. (See my earlier blog entry, Big Foot in Japan?: http://bigharmony.blogspot.com/2008/11/big-foot-in-japan.html)

Some interesting "facts" foraged from the internet:

• Vampirism didn't exist in Japanese folklore prior to 1930ish when Bram Stoker's Dracula was translated into Japanese...


• ...except for some weird ancient river creature that would slip out of the water and steal farmers' horses and cows and suck their blood through their (egads!) anuses. Disturbed, I promptly quit reading about that myth.


• Oh yeah, there is also an old story about a vampiric cat that is bent on revenge against some samurai who raped and killed a woman.

So, as you can see, a rich folklore concerning vampires does not reside in the Land of the Rising Sun. Recently, however, the vampire theme has infiltrated Japan by means of their anime (animated movies) and manga (comic books), both enormously popular with young people. Many of the tried and true western vampire themes have been incorporated into these media.

However, whereas American/European bloodsuckers are inhumanly sexy, the anime Japanese vampires are...really cute. Sure, they will drink your blood in a split second, but they will do so with huge, puppy dog eyes and light purple hair. That's just how the undead roll here.

I suppose that appropriate terror is evoked through the anime/manga writing because, afterall, the Japanese are creative and compelling story tellers. But jeez, if something with girly cow eyes and pastel hair comes near me with little bitty sharp teeth and a school girl skirt, I'm not going to flee in terror. I'm probably more likely to pat it on the head and give it a cookie.

This, of course, might be my ultimate undoing AND the most effective mode of world domination...

The Cute Shall Inherit the Earth.

Claire de Lune--Under the Sakura

Spring is here in Japan. It's signature scent, a combination of warm earth and water and baby green life, has returned.

The long-awaited sun and warm breezes have finally encouraged the sakura (cherry blossoms) to reach their pinnacle of loveliness. The girls and I spent Sunday celebrating their arrival with our Japanese buddies. We joined the throngs of people drinking beer and munching on snacks with their friends under the trees. I enjoyed the conversation at our gathering...yet, closing my eyes, I became even more content listening to the soft laughter drifting through the park. It is a joy to listen and watch people just be together in such a simple way.

As stunning as the sakura are in daylight, they are completely mesmerizing in the moonlight--so luminous, they glow. This evening, I walked home alone after eating out with some girlfriends--they were still game for some raucous karaoke but I was feeling quiet and introspective. I usually take a cab back to base but something compelled me to carry on by foot. The walk back to our apartment takes about 30 minutes. This evening, it magically seemed like three because my path led me underneath the sakura.

Gazing up at the moon through the resplendent blossoming branches, I felt completely at peace.

Although I wish I could have shared this joy with all of you I know and love, at the same time, I am completely aware that being alone in such moments is also a great gift.

Life can be sublimely strange.