Early spring, That means it's time for all the crusty ne'er- do-well gaijin wordsmiths to crawl out of the assorted crags and crevices of their post year-end holiday season 2017 hibernations. Of course, I would be no exception, so rise from my lexical slumber I must.
Olde Nagoyaland 2018...and no sooner has deepest, darkest winter taken its leave, than allergy season is upon us, with all its attendant bells and whistles. Segue to the sneezing, wheezing, nose running, eye-itching plethora of physical distraction that marks the always sudden seasonal transition period hereabouts, then toss in a generous potpourri of capsules, tablets, drops and inhalers, and the ever present possibility of a straggling dose of late winter's 'influenza du jour', and you have all the makings of a fun-filled run-up to the vernal equinox.
It's also change-over time on Planet Japan, where the local J-natives do everything just a bit differently than where I was grunted out and reared. By now, this year's annual round of feared and reviled entrance exams has given way to all manner of graduation and early commencement ceremonies. This means spring break for some, and job hunting (or the realization of failure and crushing defeat) for others. The final wrapping up of the business of 2017. Staff and students migrating to their new positions, preparing for the checkered flag to drop in April on the new fiscal and academic year. Tax time. I traditionally shed a few students hereabouts, and gradually see some new faces. At least, that's the way it always used to be. Truth be told, in these parts there aren't many left to lose, and certainly rather bleak prospects of seeing any imminent influx of fresh faces, eager to learn the ins and outs of the English language from a well-worn and seasoned professional like yours truly. In other words, the English teaching business isn't what it was at the onset of my grand (mis)adventure in these parts. Blame what you will. Times change. Trends change. I think a large part of it is that technology, or more specifically, the 'internet age', has totally altered the world we live in, and the way businesses are done. Leveled the playing field, moved the goal posts, or simply wiped the fucker off the map all together. C'est la vie. It's fortunate that my wife has a more regular gig...but it doesn't pleasure me to be so...'dependant'. There. I said it. I also live a lot more simply and quietly than I once did. Perhaps it's fortunate that the dramatic events of several years passed led me to essentially quit my drinking, carousing ways, and largely exorcise myself from the losing local social scene that I had long been a regular fixture of. I've reaped the rewards of this in several areas...not the least of which has been seeing my once dodgy health markedly improve, and saving a small fortune that would have otherwise gone down the village pisser. Just as well. I wouldn't have the money to keep that up, anyways. When I pause to consider roughly how much I've spent on myriad ways of altering my consciousness since I was 15 or 16, it's pretty staggering. Best not dwell on it. Still...
For better or worse, my lovely wife and I were not blessed with any bundles of joy to fawn over and fret about in our advancing years, so our concerns are simply more localized. We only really need to worry about taking care of ourselves, and her aging mother. Not the daunting prospects of putting our junior proteges through an education system that costs a fortune, and spits out largely submissive and obedient 'graduates' who don't seem to be able to function as free thinking individuals outside of the sheltering comforts afforded by the ever-present group apparatus...be that family, company, class, team, 'band' (that's right...not even musicians are exempt from being vacant, opinion-less slaves to group consensus...) you name it. Individuality is definitely not a 'thing' in these parts.
For better or worse, my wife does have an older sister with whom we will share the responsibility of her aging mother...though there seems to be wildly different visions of how things should proceed on the sadly inevitable day that the old lady can no longer manage on her own. For now, we count our blessings every time her quarterly physical exam comes back clean, and she gets that all important, de-facto, 'stamp of approval' to continue going her way out in the countryside of Shiga Prefecture. That old house is her anchor. Her world of familiarity and independence... just as my Gramma's house in Vancouver was hers. When Mum was hauled off to expire, and her elder siblings yanked Gramma from 'her world' (the family home that the two had co-habitated for the last quarter century), and dumped her in a residential hospital (sanitarium), that was basically it for her up-to-that-point relatively sharp cognitive skill set. At 99, the years caught up with her remarkably fast in that facility, as she sat, "waiting to die". As for my wife's mother, we'll just have to wait and see what happens. I will have no say, anyways. When she comes into town for her quarterly battery of tests and check-ups, or has other medical business over here, she stays with us. The usual duration is a night or two. Occasionally more. As time goes on, the visits get more frequent, and we have to be ready to set her up at any given time. As far as Japanese apartments go, our place is on the spacious side...for two people. Add another individual to the equation, and things start getting a bit tighter. With any class of house guest, the result is the same wherever you go. At the onset, everyone has the noblest of intentions, and tries to put their best foot forward...but 'styles' get cramped, and patience and good will inevitably start to wane. Someone is selfish, or rude, or stupid. Things start slipping sideways, and ultimately head south. The timeline varies, of course. Mother was here for her spring quarterly a couple of weeks ago, right after my lipoma surgery. The usual two days and one night became three days and two nights, due to appointment scheduling conflicts, and by the second day, things were already decidedly southbound, with my wife teetering on the brink of an aggravated melt-down, and the old lady seemingly doing everything in her power to annoy the living shit out of her (intentionally, or unintentionally, I can't be sure - old people are hard to figure out). It was nothing short of cause for celebration when she was finally ferried out of here by my wife's sister on Tuesday morning.
Which brings us to the news of the day. The old lady's finally elected to go ahead and have minor corrective surgery on her eyes to remove the cataracts at the end of this month. I guess she's ultimately concerned about losing her driver's license come testing time, as she's moving towards 85 years of age, and has been experiencing blurred vision recently. No driver's license out in the sticks where she lives is a bad thing. Loss of independence, next stop, Nagoya. Nobody wants this. It's pretty apparent that she has no great fondness for staying with us for any more than maybe a night, either.
So, she has to come in and have some preliminary tests done in the run-up to her upcoming surgery, the aftermath of which will entail three days of hospitalization, and most likely a week of recovery at our place. This morning, my lovely wife informs me that, in fact, today is one of 'those days', and that Mum will be coming in to Nagoya by train and going to the clinic 'a-la-carte' this afternoon. Here's the rub. The clinic is always overflowing with oldsters queueing for their appointments, from early morning until evening. They're invariably running late. Hours late, in some cases. This means that it's quite likely that Mum will get held up, and not make it out of there at a reasonable enough time to catch her train back to Nagahama before nightfall. As no one wants to see her at risk for any potential accidents or misfortune, Mina suggested that we might be having another 'senior's sleep over' tonight. That's fine. Only, my wife has to go to a farewell party this evening for a departing co-worker. This has been on the books for ages, so there's no wiggling out of it for her. Nor should there need to be. That potentially leaves me in charge of feeding and marshaling the old lady, if my wife decides that it's indeed best to keep her here tonight. No matter. My Japanese language abilities are absolute crap, meaning it's charades, pantomime and rudimentary grunting for the duration. What to feed her is another question. Fortunately I'm good at improvisation, and figuring things out on the fly...so I'm sure things will go off without any major hitches. I'm more concerned that the old lady will shoot off her mouth and piss my wife off, and the whole conflict from two weeks ago will play out all over again. If she ends up bedding down here for the night, I hope she has the good sense to put a fucking sock in it. Fortunately, I can't understand most of what she's on about, anyways. There's something to be said for the peace keeping value of ignorance and illiteracy. Case in point... my wife is one of the few people walking this earth with a kind word to say about my dear, late Mum. I often remind her that is mostly due to the fact that she couldn't understand what my Mum was on about when they met. Beyond the standard greetings and salutations, all my wife ever heard come out of my Mum's storied, toxic mouth was, "blah,blah,blah,blah,blah". Not necessarily a bad thing. Years ago, my ex-wife told me that it was a good thing that I didn't speak Japanese, and her family couldn't understand me...hence, everyone got along just fine. In fact, I've often been told (by more than one person) that I have the filthiest, most rotten mouth, ever. In the history of mouths, anyways. I guess it's a source of pride? It's not like I actually try, either. Therein is the magic, I suppose. The Gleasons are no slouches when it comes to running off some nasty fucking shit, either. I guess it's no wonder. It must be a genetic thing. Which brings us back to the old lady's mouth. I guess one could say 'loose lips' (which have been said to 'sink ships', incidentally). Definitely not even close to the same level as my kin...and almost certainly not 'filthy'...but enough to annoy the shit out of Mina. When my wife is smiling...the world smiles with her. When she's pissed...get the fuck out of town. Hopefully, the old lady is all shagged out, and not feeling too verbose this evening, and peace prevails in these humble precincts.
Alas, the clouds have cleared, and a late afternoon sunshine has brightened the pastures out of yonder sliding glass doors. On closer inspection, it seems the local shit head cops have set up a snare trap across the street to nick unsuspecting drivers for whatever minor infractions they might be infracting. I guess it's quota time. As long as they don't blow their infernal whistles every 5 minutes, I couldn't care less. I hope they get some of those texting aresholes, anyways. Better yet, a giant sink hole will open up and swallow the lot of them.
That's the way it is here in pre-vernal equinox Olde Nagoyaland. Look for another long winded flogging of the once living horse sometime before summer, I'd imagine. Perhaps even before. For now, though, remember our stolen mantra..."No matter where you go...there you are".
And there you are.
