Yesterday was April Fool's Day at my point of origin...and my younger brother's birthday. It's always been an easy one to remember. I'm sure my sister and I probably teased him about it back in the day - as kids are won't to do.
In my estimation, April Fool's Day is an auspicious calendar date to have been born. A day dedicated to mischief, trickery and deception. Prime time to make make sport of the gullible and easily led, and have a laugh at their expense. Growing up, I was more often 'the deceived' than 'the deceiver'. Throughout my life, my trusting nature has been relatively easy for the ill-intentioned to exploit. While it's doubtless been a source of laughter and amusement for more than a few people that I've been close to or trusted, it's also caused me my fair share of grief. That could account for why I rarely engage in April Fool's gags or other such shenanigans.
I was born on Christmas Eve, another day considered auspicious by many. It's also certain that it shares more than a little in common with my younger sibling's calendar birthday. One would be hard pressed to come up with another date as historically synonymous with trickery or deception. We have the Roman Emperor Constantine (306-337 AD) to credit for this great ruse. One thousand six hundred and eighty four years after his demise, I still have people asking me how I like, 'sharing a birthday with Jesus'. When I was a little kid, I thought it was a big deal - that maybe I was 'special' or something; but as I got older and knew better, I'd have a whole raft of smart ass retorts to roll out. I quickly learned that the vast majority of people have no interest in trivia, or a history lesson. Their eyes would kind of glaze over and they'd change the subject or just smirk and walk away.
"Happy birthday, anyways...and Merry Christmas!"
"Yeah, thanks. Merry Christmas to you, too"
I can still see the comic book 'thought balloons' hovering over their heads.
("What a dork. He's out of his mind. Just smile and nod. It's no use encouraging these people...etc.)
Even at a relatively young age, I knew these rote seasonal greetings and whatnot were mostly all lip service and 'going through the motions'. Pretty shallow-end-of-the-pool stuff. Well, mostly, anyways.
"What's it like to have a birthday at the height of Saturnalia?"
"Yeah, it's alright. I mean, everyone's in a pretty festive mood, anyways. I've always kind of felt that it got lost in the shuffle, though...what with all the gambling, gluttony and orgying occupying everyone's minds. I don't wanna be a party pooper, though...so I just go along with it."
"Oh, before I forget - here's your combination Saturnalia/birthday present! I'll catch up with you later, I'm late for my orgying..."
And so on.
April 1st in Olde Nagoyaland was a day devoid of tricks or fun...which is par for the course in these precincts. Though definitely adept at deception, the J-folk are not noted for their playful sense of humour or irony. While the errant and spiteful spirit of Loki (the Norse God of mischief and trickery) seems conspicuously absent here in Deadbeat City, that's not to say that 'fools' are by any means in short supply. As Planet Japan edges toward a full on fourth wave of COVID infections, it's nice to see the natives gathering in large groups on tarps and blankets absolutely anywhere there happens to be a cherry tree in blossom, eating, drinking and merrily chatting in each other's faces at close range - mask free, of course. What the locals lack in a sense of fun or mischief, they more than make up for in carelessness and garden variety DUMB. Perhaps Loki would be amused; for what need would there be in going about the effort of tricking and duping a group of people already so adept at making complete and utter fools of themselves?
It surely won't be so funny in a couple of weeks, when the local hospitals are pushed to the breaking point yet again. No doubt those last precious memories of all the fluttering sakura and idle chatter will serve as great comfort to those who end up struggling to catch a breath, and finally intubated and under sedation. We know how that can end up.
Until the Covidian era, spring had always been my favourite season over here. Now I feel conflicted. The natives can't control themselves when they see the trees coming out in full bloom. It's like these sakura have some type of hold over them. Maybe it's something to do with their precious 'cultural identity'? Their perceived 'spiritual link' to these blossoms. Something to do with the romanticism they attach to the fleeting beauty of the flowers...whose sameness and individuality merge for a glorious random journey to demise, finally coming to rest in beautiful anonymity among countless thousands of their identical 'brothers and sisters', if you will. I suppose they see this whole thing as a quaint metaphor for themselves, and their life's journeys. The natives place a lot of value on sameness and conformity. The beauty of a unified and harmonized group, all doing essentially the same thing. The idea that they share a common root, and all come to rest in the same place. It all plays into a kind of almost tribal idea of their perceived exceptionalism - as a group, all cut from the same cloth.
You can sort of guess where this leaves 'outsiders'.
For some, it's all simply an excuse to group. To cut loose, get shit-faced drunk, act like obnoxious assholes, then vomit all over the station and subsequent train on the way home to their parents, or wives and kids. This is usually all fine and dandy, but in the Covidian era, it's deadly irresponsible.
Being into year two of this 21st century plague, here (as elsewhere) there seems to be a lot of fatigue attached to 'following the rules'. With the Japanese government's snail's pace vaccine roll out constantly being pushed forward, it's now essentially not expected to really reach any significant number of people until close to the end of this year (!). As a knee-jerk response, it seems people are just sort of giving up, and doing whatever they want. Hanami parties, barbeques, gigs, karaoke...their all-in.
New Year's played out much the same way. People were cautioned about visiting their hometowns, or taking part in their customary year-end fetes and parties; but a good many did it anyways - because, "Covid is for 'other people' - not for us!"
Infection rates shot into the stratosphere, and people died.
In the park across the road, and a bit further on (where I go running) up the Horikawa canal-side, the rows of cherry trees are in full blossom. Spring in Japan is beautiful. I don't pause to take it all in as I used to. Nope. I keep running; as I generally don't wear a mask when I run (unless there is an air quality warning), I naturally get shot dirty looks from the local peanut gallery as I go. A couple of weeks ago, one guy running in the opposite direction actually went out of his way to make an exaggerated swerve away from me, whilst shielding his already masked face with his hands as we passed. It's really rare to see a native engage in such an over-the-top display of situational pantomime in a public place.
In my nearly three decades over here, that may have actually been a first.
Priceless.
*(It should be noted that I make a point of keeping a healthy distance from everyone over here, regardless of the place or situation. We were already more than 2 metres apart)
The natives are weird when it comes to their 'mask on, mask off' policies. They'll drive around alone with their masks on, walk around alone with their masks on, and with very few exceptions, run and cycle (alone) with their masks on. Then they'll frequent recognized 'spread vectors' like restaurants, karaoke boxes, live music venues and bars with their masks OFF. Or suddenly yank them down in supermarkets to cough, sneeze, or harangue staff. It's absurd.
The masked up J-folk that give me the hairy eyeball as I jog past likely blame the entire pandemic and all of its attendant misery and inconvenience on me, and those of my ilk. It's never their responsibility. That's they way they've been socialized. That suits me fine; I've learned to somewhat enjoy being the default villain in every situation. I'd might as well - things here will never change.
As I sweat, pant and plod my way past, I take in the beauty of the intermittent sakura canopies overhead, and hope that the stink eye giving J-natives give me as wide a berth as I go out of my way to afford them. They invariably don't.
After all, it is their country. They have the right.
The last week has been unusually warm for this time of year, and I've half expected to have to navigate a plethora of huffing and puffing cheesedicks in designer jogging outfits looking to either race me, or swoop in and pass me from behind or head-on in the narrow inside lane - but my local course has been oddly quiet. Whereas I'd usually count seven to ten of the aforementioned 'challengers' in an hour, the last week there have only been two or three, at most.
Very odd. Hopefully they've all found somewhere else to get their ya-yas out. This is a trend I could get used to.
Winter seemed somewhat abbreviated this year, really only making itself felt around the second week of December, then sort of petering out during the third week of February. No complaints from these quarters.
Winding the clock back to just after where we left off in my last dispatch (the ever present plague and fallout of the tragic passing of Mayumi's husband aside), autumn trundled in rather uneventfully, as it always does over here.
Less than a week after 'the summer that wasn't', and all the dreadful funeral business wrapped up, it was getting close to time for my annual health check - or 'ningen dock', as the natives say in their odd hybrid vernacular of Japanese and English loan words ('gairaigo' to the uninitiated). Roughly translated, it means 'human dock' - referring to a kind of 'dry dock' situation for us hairless apes. A chance to get our hulls checked for leaks and what have you. I'm obligated to jump through these flaming hoops every year for Mr. Insecthead's kindergarten. It's something I used to deeply resent, but have become accustomed to. While I hate the poking and prodding, as I get deeper into third period, it's actually reassuring to have a semi-thorough once over every year or so - just to make sure there's nothing 'unbecoming' on the lurk.
It also turns out that Mina had been concerned about my heart rate fluctuating for awhile. I'd had a bad time at that awful drawn out ososhiki service, and cracked it up to all that accumulated stress maybe having triggered a borderline panic attack; but it turns out that (quite unbeknownst to me) Mina had been checking my pulse and heart rate at regular intervals for awhile, and noticed that something wasn't right.
Not one to foot drag, or waste time on speculation, she essentially insisted that we go in to the hospital and consult with a cardiologist at our next convenience, so that I could get hooked up to a portable EKG (electro cardiogram) device, that would monitor my heart rate, etc. for a full day - after which the data gathered would be analyzed and interpreted, and a determination made as to whether I had any sort of condition to be concerned about.
Of course, any idea I might have had of protesting this whole plan was essentially futile, so no sooner were we done with the funeral business and the dregs of the season's end 'Silver Week' holiday, than I was on a bench in Cardiology, having a myriad of wired electrodes stuck all over my freshly shaved chest like some latter day Frankenstein's monster. I'd have to wear a little strap on electronic device that reminded me of an old school garage door opener, and stay out of the bath and shower for full day. Fortunately the worst of the late summer heat and humidity had subsided, so a day unwashed wouldn't be that big a deal.
Of course, it was all a bit awkward teaching my Tuesday evening class with wires poking out of my shirt, but what can you do? I made some awkward joke about it, but my student, being a doctor, knew exactly what it was.
"Are you alright?"
"I think so. Mina noticed that my pulse has seemed irregular recently. It's probably nothing, but she just wants to be sure..."
He nodded and smirked. He's also married to a retired nurse.
"Nurses orders. We can't refuse."
I smiled.
"No...we really can't."
TO BE CONTINUED....
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