September 8–12草露白 Kusa no tsuyu shiroshi - Dew glistens white on grass
September 13–17鶺鴒鳴 Sekirei naku - Wagtails sing
September 18–22玄鳥去 Tsubame saru - Swallows leave
Okasan's been on a roll, and has seen fit to leave me a bit of a backlog of late summer themed post cards. Her work is getting better all the time.
Wednesday, August 31st
The last day of summer vacation for Japanese school kids.
Having spent the bulk of my formative years in Vancouver, B.C., it seems that the last day of summer holidays was always a cloudy, near autumnal affair. I can't remember getting up to very much. I'm pretty sure that most of the 'back to school' shopping was done at that point. We might have had to go over to Gramma's for dinner on the Saturday or Sunday...but the first Monday of September was akin to a sort of metaphorical 'no-man's land'. That grey area between summer's freedom and the bondage of grade school.
It was easily the most depressing day of the entire year.
There were always fundraising telethons on TV over the Labour Day long weekend. Where we were, there was the never amusing Jerry Lewis Muscular Dystrophy telethon, and the quarterly pledge drive on KCTS 9, the PBS cable channel out of Seattle.
As far as I can remember, these public television pledge drives would go on for a week or so, before finally culminating in a big push over the corresponding long weekend. In between haranguing and soliciting their viewers for phone-in donations, they'd grudgingly trot out dribs and drabs of their most popular shows, punctuated with frequent reminders that their ability to continue providing this type of ' top quality commercial-free programming' was entirely dependent on the charity and generosity of everyone at home.
Back in those days, PBS telethons would always culminate in a Monty Python's Flying Circus/Fawlty Towers marathon, which would be enough to keep a lot of us tuned in for most of the weekend. I don't think American public television had any other programs with the sort of pull these ones had.
In Vancouver, we'd get a smattering of older syndicated British comedy things on KVOS 12 out of Bellingham, Wa. Stuff like On The Buses, Doctor in the House or Benny Hill. The CBC would run Coronation Street or Man About The House.
Nothing too cutting edge.
Monty Python was all the rage when I was nine or ten years old. As far as my friends and I were concerned, that was the jewel in the crown of English comedy.
The mid-late 70's was also the golden age of Saturday Night Live. I'd stay up late to watch that every weekend, without fail. I remember my Mum staying up to see what all the fuss was about once. She sat and watched it for about ten minutes, then shook her head and called me an 'imbecile'.
I guess 'Mr. Bill' didn't impress her.
Back in the mid to late 70's - before video players and the such - the KCTS 9 telethons would pretty much be our only chance to see Python. When the last weekend of summer holidays rolled around, it was kind of an event. A welcome distraction from the sense of impending doom that always hovered over those last few days of freedom.
Enthusiasm and my best efforts aside, I don't think I ever managed to make it through the entire four season run end-to-end without falling asleep. I'd usually conk out about halfway through the second season on Saturday night, then be back at it again first thing Sunday.
Mum would tell me to turn it off, and go out to get some fresh air, and I'd refuse. She'd shake her head and call me an 'imbecile'.
This was like her default reaction to most of the things I liked or showed an interest in back then. TV shows. Comic books. Music. Movies.
It was all 'sick', or 'garbage', and I was an "Imbecile".
I expected it. It invariably meant that I was on to something good.
In those days, she lacked any sense of the abstract or absurd. Later on, she'd blame my step-father for her years of dour humourless carping. I've often wondered if it was actually she who blanched any sense of 'joie du vivre' out of him? Either way, I think they absolutely sucked all the joy of life out of each other...and in the process, attempted to do same thing to us.
Funny how that happens.
Neither of them had the least bit of culture. They were hollow, monochrome individuals. Dire, bitching, and venal gin and tonic lubricated scarecrows, with their radios perpetually tuned to the easy listening sounds of CHQM FM 103.5...Vancouver's muzak station back in the 70's.
Mother was obsessed with achieving her vision of the ideal suburban dream home. Years and fortunes were frittered away constantly tearing apart and rebuilding parts of the house or backyard. None of it ever made her happy. All of the stress made everyone miserable. I don't think she really knew what she wanted. I have no idea what he actually wanted, either. Perhaps it was simply to make her happy? He didn't have the nerve to speak up, though. It likely wouldn't have done any good, anyways. She'd ride him harder, and he'd just bottle up any harboured resentment, keep his head down and do her bidding.
They both became increasingly abusive and unavailable.
Mum wouldn't mellow out enough to catch on to the nuances of a lot of this 'comedy' stuff until years later, when that cursed house, and husband #2 were a long shot down the road. Then she'd laugh and laugh at Fawlty Towers. In her later days, she'd tell me about how much she loved Seinfeld, too.
I think all the drinking loosened her up somewhat. For better or worse.
If we were really lucky, my step father would pack us into the station wagon on that final Saturday or Sunday afternoon of summer, and drive us across town to the P.N.E. (Pacific National Exhibition) over at the old Hastings Park site. This is Vancouver's answer to what the Americans refer to as a 'county fair'. Ten days of lumberjack games, demolition derbies, carnival barkers and heat baggers.
As kids, we couldn't care less about the manure reeking livestock pavilions or the annual prize 'model home'. We just wanted go to Playland, eat mini donuts, throw darts at balloons and queue up to get on the old puke-o-rama midway rides.
Of course, it was crawling with people and over-priced...and my step father was neither known for his love of crowds, or deep pockets.
Alas, most years I would be stuck at home in front of the TV, watching Monty Python.
In any case, after spending the better part of that last weekend of summer glued to PBS 9, I'd go in to first day of school bleary-eyed, with a head full of Python sketches. A dose of absurdity can do wonders for one's coping mechanisms.
At least we didn't have reams of homework to plough through. Japanese school kids get loaded down with a stack of assignments before they're set free the third week of July. This stuff invariably sits untouched until about a week before school is back in; then everyone's in a mad panic to get it all finished.
In most cases, the considerable overflow ends up being done by parents, grandparents and older siblings...hence, you don't see too many kids out running around in the park the last week of summer holidays. They're all locked indoors, chained to the books.
On my way out to run this morning, I passed the municipal pool by the tennis courts and public gymnasium in the park across the street. Closing day, and only a handful of kids at 11:00 am. A week ago, it was packed. Everyone is at home trying to get their homework in order.
Poor fuckers.
The last of this year's really hardcore summer weather (27C - 37C) finally took its leave toward the end of last week, leaving us to revel in the current 'manageable heat' (23C - 32C)...along with some pretty severe humidity.
We're coming into the late summer typhoon and rainy season, so all kinds of steamy sub tropical jungle air is being funneled up this way from the central south Pacific. The plasma-cluster air cleaner we have going in the living room has been reading between 80 and 90% humidity almost every day for the last week or so.
This time of year's perpetual jungle sweat down used to bother me a lot more than it does now. I suppose one can get used to almost anything. We only run the AC at night, though. During the day I keep all the doors and windows open, put on the old-fashioned rotary fans, and hang out in my ginch, running sweat and drinking cold jasmine tea.
It's all great until the doorbell rings, and I have to dash around looking for a mask, pen and something to throw on top of all that dripping sweat. I always seem to be waiting on a package from Amazon, the post office, Sagawa or Kuro Neko takubin (private parcel delivery services). If we're lucky, we can time our deliveries, and have some rough idea of when to expect the door bell to ring (like between 2:00 and 4:00pm)...but sometimes, it's completely random.
They seem to be fond of showing up right when I'm in the shower, taking a shit, or sitting around 'au natural'. If I miss them, they leave a notice of 'failed delivery' in the front door mail slot, and it's up to us to call them and schedule another pass.
It's not a very good system at all. Every incomplete delivery is a massive waste of time and resources. It must really suck arse to have to haul something heavy and cumbersome out from the truck in shit weather, only to have to drag it all the way back when no one answers the door, then do it all over again later.
Wouldn't it make a lot more sense for these outfits to just schedule all their deliveries from the get go?
Speaking of deliveries - the new TV stuff finally came last Saturday. We'd been waiting for over a month. Yamada Denki sent two guys over to set it all up, and haul off our old shit. They were scheduled to show up between 2:00 and 4:00pm, and rolled up at 2:00 precisely. We were duly impressed.
After that, everything went south pretty quick. They were young. College aged... maybe 21 or 22 years old at most.
One of them came in with his nose hanging out of his mask. Of course, I had to tell him about it. He muttered something that I assume was an insincere apology, and made a token effort to pull it up. Two minutes later, his nose was hanging out again. The 'head boy' had instructions and manuals spread out all over the place, trying to figure out where to start.
They didn't seem to know what they were doing, but were obviously in a big hurry to get it done, and get the hell out.
Of course, the result was a totally half-assed, buggered up carbuncle of a job. Questions and requests were met with curt, clipped answers, not-so-subtle eye rolls...or outright blank expressions. Yamada could have sent a pair of housebroken Mandrills and we'd have got exactly the same result, minus the attitudes.
No sooner had the last screw been turned, and the final HDMI plug stuck into the wrong input, than they flew out the door so fast you'd think someone had set them alight.
After they split, Mina and I sat and puzzled over how to switch the TV and sound system's command menus over to English with the two remote controls. The 'head boy' had said that he'd do it before he left; but was in such hurry to haul ass out the door, it never got done.
It took Mina about five minutes of scanning and scrolling around through a myriad of Japanese language menus to finally get everything figured out.
Then she stood back and noticed that the television screen was lopsided. In their mad rush to get out the door, they'd screwed the main LED panel on to the rear bracket of the TV board on a tilt. I stood back and saw it right away. It looked like a poorly hung painting. For a borderline OCD case like me, the urge to go over and straighten it was unbearable. It was really distracting to look at. Torturous, actually.
Mina called Yamada; but it was past 7:00 pm, and they were already done for the day. She managed to get ahold of them as soon as they opened on Saturday, and explained what had happened.
Initially, they were going to send the same two sub-Mandrills back over on Saturday afternoon, as they were conveniently 'in the neighbourhood' (we actually saw them parked out front in the Yamada delivery truck as I was going out to do a morning class). Mina declined this offer in no uncertain terms, and told them that it would be appreciated if they could manage to send along someone with at least a 'minimum knowledge' of the stuff we ordered. The sub-Mandrills were not welcome.
The guy at Yamada dithered and sucked his teeth, then said that it would be tough to find another team to come today on such short notice - but that they could send a different team over on Sunday, between 2:00 and 4:00pm. We got up early, sorted all of the week's shopping before 1:00 pm, then spent the bulk of Sunday afternoon sitting around waiting for team #2 to turn up. They finally rolled in at 3:55.
Another pair of relatively young guys. Fortunately, they seemed at least marginally more knowledgable. They also wore their masks properly. Mina even said that she saw them use hand cleaner at the door (shock of shocks).
It took them about an hour to sort out the mess that the sub-Mandrills had made. They were polite, organized and methodical. Everything was finished, and they were gone just short of 5pm.
And that was our weekend.
A job that should have taken less than two hours to do right had whittled away the bulk of two days. Fortunately we didn't have okasan to contend with...but this was our final summer weekend free from old lady minding.
It was nice to have the new stuff set up properly; but beyond annoying that those rude, incompetent little shits had unapologetically pissed away our last weekend of relative freedom. They'd also effectively killed the buzz we should have had finally getting our new stuff.
I got online and found the English language manuals for the TV and audio set ups, watched a few YouTube videos, and within a day, had pretty much figured everything out.
Pretty much.
Viva technology, I guess. Why can't these things just work the way they're supposed to when you plug them in?
Now we have to figure out how to idiot proof everything, so the old lady doesn't bugger it all up on Saturday and Sunday.
First off, I guess I'll have to saran wrap the remote controls...
Wednesday, September 7th
A sunny, agreeable day between the near-miss typhoon that rolled through the Sea of Japan corridor yesterday, and the Nagoya TV weather moron's promises of a giant piss down tomorrow. The air's still jungle humid, thick and chunky.
I was out on the balcony catching a few early rays of sunlight and surveying my realm just shy of 6:20 this morning, and what do I see? Hundreds of tiny droplets of dew glistening white on the unkempt wild grass that runs the length of the south side of our building.
'Hakuro' - a day early.
Two classes at Mr. Insecthead's under my belt over the last week - and another one on Friday...then nothing until mid-October. It's a bit frustrating. They'll schedule three or four classes relatively close together - like in a two week block.
We develop a rhythm, get into a groove, things start going well.... then 'boom!'
Nothing else for a month.
The kids mostly forget whatever we were doing, and four weeks later, it's back to square one, trying to jog their memories and pick up where we left off. When I first started out over there, things were more predictable and consistent.
Three Friday mornings a month, like clockwork.
I think they've been easing Insect Daughter into handling more and more of the day-to-day running of the school, so some 'hiccups' are going to be inevitable. I don't envy her. At 28 years old, it doesn't look like she's going to be able to get much actual living in, outside the confines of that school compound. The Insect Family's home is adjacent to the school and playground, and on the same plot of property - so there's literally no escape. She's under her parent's thumb, 24-7.
On the positive side, I guess she doesn't need to worry about supporting herself, or making her own way in life. Everything's set and taken care of. Barring matters of physical health, here are no random elements. It's a life devoid of chance.
We all have our albatrosses, I suppose.
On the positive side, I do like the month's break. I have enough going on over here day-to-day to fill in the blanks...and then some. Pity I'm not pulling in a bit more cash.
Thus far, there's been no more trouble with the three headed hydra in the five year old's class. It looks like Kinder Queen Geedorah has been vanquished; at least for now.
Erratica hasn't come at me since the April 'troubles'. While she continues to power trip on the kids and act like an ass, she's managed to largely dial down her control freak impulses for the thirty minutes I'm there. In other words, she lets me do my class.
On my way in to the school office this morning, I glanced up and saw her parading outside of room #1 with her mask around her neck, shouting orders at the kids in room#2, and not giving a single, solitary shit.
I get it. Everyone's sick of masks. It's been a long hot summer - but the pandemic thing is still an issue, and classes continue to be impacted by in-school spread. In other words, there are still new cases emerging every week.
Whether we like it or not, masks are still mandatory for all of us.
I worried that I was going to have to re-ignite 'the troubles' by asking her to put her mask on; but when I rolled in, she saved me the trouble by hastily pulling it up over her face. Mostly. Her nose was hanging out...but it was kind of on.
Small sigh of relief for at least the token effort having been made. That would prove to be short lived.
Five minutes later it was completely off, and hanging around her neck again. She was busy shouting at a couple of 'naughty boys' toward the back of the class, apparently completely oblivious of her unmasked-ness, or simply not giving a rat's arse.
It seems that she feels like her position of perceived 'authority' somehow sets her apart, and exempts her from the rules everyone else is expected to follow. Sort of like the type exceptionalism displayed by a lot of Americans when they travel abroad.
Long Covid was on the other side of the room, dealing with her group of kids and saying nothing. This seems to be her default position with Erratica.
I weighed my options, and had an idea. We were playing 'Simon Says', and around 90% of the kids had masks on or half-on, so I shouted, 'Simon Says masks ON!' Like magic, all but two of the kids that weren't already sitting down pulled their masks up and over their faces. I looked at Erratica, and she followed suit.
It worked!
One of the maskless kids that was still standing - a boy on the far side of the room - asked if he had to sit down (because he didn't have a mask to put on). I motioned to him and the other maskless kid, and said, "No, you're both safe!", then flashed them a 'thumbs-up'. There was rejoicing. Justice had been done.
Five year old kids get a pass. They're five. Twenty-something adult 'teachers' don't.
Just as I was about to pat myself on the back for having so cleverly got Erratica to mask up, she'd turned around, taken it off completely, and stuffed it into one of the front pockets on her teacher's apron. She was as barefaced as the day she was born.
Was she doing this deliberately...trying to provoke me?
I wondered if she was conducting herself like this every day?
Oblivious to the activity we were doing, or her maskless mug, she seemed preoccupied with bringing that same errant couple of boys she'd been shouting at to justice. She proceeded to go after them at the back of the class, grabbing at their upper arms and physically jerking them apart while I attempted to carry on with the game. She seems to be a bit physically rough with the kids.
As usual, she was totally oblivious to the distraction she was creating.
I paused, and everyone waited as she dragged one of the boys across the room by his upper arm, and set him at furthest point possible from his little accomplice. Suddenly aware that everyone had stopped, and was waiting for her to finish her business with the two boys, she shot me a look, to which I nodded and made a mask raising gesture with my right hand. I summoned my most diplomatic tone.
"Mask, please."
She reached into her apron pocket, pulled out the crumpled up mask, and put it back on. She even covered her nose properly. I thanked her, she acknowledged - and it stayed on until I wrapped everything up fifteen minutes later.
As we get further out from the April 'troubles', it looks like Erratica is returning to the same patterns that caused a lot of the problems to start with. Perhaps the effect of the scolding (?) she got from Insecthead is wearing off. Maybe she simply doesn't give a shit anymore.
Heading into autumn and winter, I'm going to have to keep an eye over my shoulder. I suspect somewhere down the line, there will be more provocation and needless drama, and it seems sure that Erratica will be at the centre of it. I just want this year to wrap as peacefully as possible, and for her to be gone.
As ineffective as Long Covid is, she wears her mask properly, renders assistance when asked, and even attempts to be...'friendly'. Things between her and I appear to have largely returned to...normal? I roll with it, show everyone due courtesy, and just focus on the entertaining the kids.
As far as that loathsome Ms. Bianca character...I haven't seen her on site since my last class in July. I imagine she's gone back to where ever she came from to visit family or something. I assume she'll be back by Friday.
Saturday morning we had old lady minding duty for the first weekend since early August. As per usual, day number one went off without a hitch...well, almost.
Mina brought her in from Mayumi's at around 11:00 in the morning. She wanted to work on her postcards, so we got her set up at the dining room table before we went out to do some shopping, then attempted to teach her how to us use the new TV remote control.
I'd old-lady proofed it with saran wrap, and Mina had put coloured stickers over the five buttons she'd need to use. Easy and simple. The little round 'ON-OFF' button at the top, and the vertical 'plus-minus' volume/channel buttons on the body of the controller were all clearly marked with small green stickers. We did a couple of run-throughs, and she said that she understood; but actually wanted the TV off, so she could concentrate on her cards.
That made everything easy.
When we got back about an hour later, something seemed a bit odd. When we went into the main room, she was hunched diligently over her postcards at the table, and the TV was 'on', with no sound. There was a screensaver flip-show going on over the Google TV streaming application homepage. Nice 4K landscapes and nature scenes.
Okasan looked up and announced that she hadn't touched anything.
When I'd turned it off before we left, it was set for 'normal' Japanese television. Perhaps I'd inadvertently pushed the timer button? There are entirely too many functions on these new sets. They're finicky and sensitive.
Mystery of mysteries.
I hope it doesn't start turning itself on and off, and scrolling through menu screens at random in the middle of the night. It's been such a pain in the arse to finally get the thing set up and working. I can't imagine the bullshit we'll have to go through if we need to exercise our warranty option, send it back and get a new one.
I suppose we'll need to keep an eye on it, and see what it does over the next week or so.
The good news is that she seems to like watching the big screen. My late Gramma would always complain of retinal fatigue, and say that big screens made her tired. Of course, small screens were no better, She'd have to strain too hard to watch. TV was one of her only pleasures, too. Getting old sucks.
Sunday was largely uneventful. We fed okasan KFC for lunch, and Mina got her back to Mayumi's about an hour and a half later than planned. When she came back just short of 9pm, she looked exhausted. Spent.
So, we sputtered across the finish line, week number one done and sorted. I got a couple of nice hand painted postcards out of the deal when she arrived, so that was a win. Based on those, she scores a straight 'C'.
And that's where we'll leave it for now. Two weeks or so henceforth, there will be more...and it will be 'autumn proper', with the days growing shorter and cooler, and nothing but the cold, grim business of winter to look forward to.
So, until next we meet, you'd do well to remember that...
"No matter where you go, there you are".
There, and nowhere else.
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