Our lovely Kahma Home Centre poinsettia...before I accidentally topped one of those lovely pink and yellow heads with a laundry hanger about a week later. This why we can't have nice things.
Wednesday, December 6th
I typically wake up at least two or three times times before I ultimately give in and exit our down comforter cocoon to join the pre-dawn chill, just short of 5 am. With sunrise currently clocking in at around 6:45, the twilight of dawn doesn't start seeping through the veil of night until well over an hour after I start fumbling around the kitchen and living room.
There always seems to be a tune rattling around in my head when I wake up, and that piece of music invariably sets the tone for the day ahead. I often wonder how certain pieces of music end up in that pre-dawn shuffle queue? Sometimes they're things that I've had on recent rotation...and other times they're really out of left field, oddball selections - things I haven't heard in ages, or that wouldn't normally come to mind. Today I woke up to a persistent sample loop of this plaintive, early 70's glam-era guitar solo. Almost no other song elements...just that solo. While it was obviously early Roxy Music, I couldn't remember the song title or whether it was off their third or fourth album. Usually I'm a virtual compendium of rock music trivia, but the old cylinders don't really start firing properly until at least 8 am these days. Frustrated, I finally had to brave the chill of our walk-in cooler 'home office' and boot up the computer. After a few chilly, bleary eyed moments, I managed to nail it down.
'Just Like You', the second track off of Stranded, Roxy Music's third album.
How on earth did that end up in my pre-dawn head?
Thursday, December 7th
Somehow I managed to sleep straight through to the alarm this morning. This is a relatively rare occurrence - but a welcome switch from waking up at 4:15, then half dozing and waking up to check my clock every ten minutes before I throw in the towel and just get up half an hour later.
Could it be that the CBD cookie I had after dinner actually worked?
No sooner had I got myself planted on the loo, than the pre-dawn shuffle in my cranial Wurlitzer kicked in to the opening chords of 'Junior's Farm', by Paul McCartney and Wings.
It's pushing 9:00 am now, still going...and driving me nuts.
Yesterday it was Roxy Music. Today it's Wings.
I can't figure any correlation, other than they're from 1973 and '74 respectively.
The non-album Wings single dates back to October '74, and was on the radio all the time. McCartney was an easy sell to commercial am stations back in the 70's, what with the built in following he'd inherited from his Beatles days. While lightweight singles like 'Let 'em in' and 'Silly Love Songs' were ubiquitous on top 40 radio back then, I seem to remember 'Live and Let Die' being a big deal with the 8 to 10 year old set...possibly because it was a James Bond movie theme song. In the days before Star Wars took over, 007 movies, Planet of the Apes and The Six Million Dollar Man were just about the coolest things going for eight or nine year old boys in my general orbit.
Then there was 'Junior's Farm' - kind of a dark horse selection, but a tune that got a lot of airtime on the old Sony transistor radio, and always seems to trigger some era specific nostalgia. Like a period montage of my third grade variant flicking hockey cards on the covered blacktop at Kerrisdale school on a frigid winter morning, or sitting on my old banana seat, high handle bar special watching after school fist fights in front of the old firehall on the corner of 38th and Carnarvon.
In retrospect, I think that's probably one of my favourite Wings songs, I'm not sure if I liked it then, or was just indifferent, but I love it now.
Curiously, the passage of years can make pop music that one may have found awful or annoying 'back in the day' somehow more enjoyable decades later. I think this is largely due to music's ability to conjure obscure memories, and a rarified sense of nostalgia for places and people long gone. These days I'll suddenly find myself liking things that I despised in the 70's or 80's. Who could guess that two and a half decades into the 21st century, I'd find myself enjoying E.L.O., Def Leppard or Culture Club? The list goes on, of course; and it's growing all the time.
Then there are bands like Wings, a known quantity that I never really hated, but wasn't a huge fan of either. I think I might have had a beat up second hand copy of Band on the Run from a second hand book store, and maybe a cassette dub of 'Wings Greatest' a friend made for me in grade eight or nine.
I was a huge Beatles fan in junior high school, but not so big on McCartney's lightweight solo offerings, which were staples on am radio. Of course there were a few exceptions....like Live and Let Die, and a handful of others.
Junior's Farm.
Over the last decade or so, I've become a bit more amenable to some of the fluffier, even slightly embarrassing stuff 'soft rock' stuff that I'd skip over back then. The power of nostalgia, I suppose.
Recently I've even been able to (just barely) stomach Lennon's awful 'Double Fantasy' album. Memories of Christmas '79. I was in the eighth grade, and Lennon had just been shot. They really milked that 'final' album, and played the '(Just like) Starting Over' single every ten minutes. I think my Mum and step Dad's marriage was in it's final throes, too. Anyways, that largely crap record triggers a barrage of vivid memories. Things I haven't thought of for ages. Curse the convenience of streaming. It's so damn easy to go down this or that rabbit hole, and fall victim to one's worst, most groan-inducing musical impulses.
I did a quick search on my streaming app (Amazon Music Unlimited is a pretty good deal in these parts, if anyone was asking), and found 'Junior's Farm', stuck in with a bunch fluffy Wings singles from the mid-70's.
Just like that, I had my pre-run stretch playlist sorted for the morning. One way to terminate a stubborn ear worm is to play it, and nip it right in the bud. Beware the dangers of prying open certain musical pandora's boxes. In trying to stick one song back, you can end up with two or three more ear worm monkeys riding your back. 'ABBA's Gold' is probably the worst offender in my library...but Wings Greatest is definitely right up there.
Exit 'Junior's Farm', and enter 'With a Little Luck'.
You honestly didn't think you going to get away without this one....
Groan.
That one rattled around in my head for 10 km up the canal and back. A full hour, and then some. While the 70's nostalgia trip was fun, maybe I should have just avoided streaming 'Wings Greatest', and stuck with the Junior's Farm ear worm.
Wednesday, December 13th
A week and some change from the solstice, and only a few more flaming hoops to blow through before my schedule is clear until the first week of January.
This morning, my cranial Wurlitzer dropped 'Who Loves The Sun', track one from The Velvet Underground's final studio album, Loaded. We've been listening to the CD in Mina's van recently, so it's no big surprise that this one came up.
I'd sort of forgotten how much I loved that record, then a few weeks ago the closing track (Oh! Sweet Nuthin) popped up in a rather poignant scene toward the end of Loki (season 2). That pleasant surprise prompted me to go and dig the album out of my collection, and pack it out to Mina's van. It passed muster, and ultimately supplanted the Pogues second album, 'Rum, Sodomy and The Lash'. That one had been playing in a constant loop since Shane MacGowan (the band's singer/songwriter) passed on November 30th. That's another brilliant one that I hadn't listened to in a very long while.
If Mina likes an album, it tends to play in a repeat loop for weeks on end. If doesn't pass muster, it typically lasts an afternoon or so. Sometimes less.
Anyways, it's with a head full of 1970 Velvets that I march into the last two weeks of 2023. Of course, that's subject to change...but for now, it's like a long lost pal from decades past has decided to kip on that ratty old couch in the dusty basement of my subconscious.
Segue to....
The Yokkaichi Wedding - Part One
Beautiful, scenic Yokkaichi. At night, those smoke stacks spew flames.
Last weekend we managed to successfully navigate the fraught straits of Terrorist Mayumi's big family event of the year...her second son's wedding. From what little I've been able to glean, it was an 'arranged marriage' (omiai). Oddly, these types of 'strategic pairings' are still fairly common over here. This is something that I've never quite been able to wrap my head around. I mean, in rural India or somewhere like that, maybe....but this is 21st century Japan. Is it really possible to 'learn to love' someone? It strikes me that all too often considerable stacks of cash end up being frittered away hiring lawyers and the such to free people from 'loveless' marriages.
Why would anyone actually volunteer...or worse yet, PAY for the privilege of that purgatory?
People will offer all kinds of excuses when asked about the legitimacy of these types of unions - the most common perhaps being that, 'working people simply don't have the time to get out and meet potential partners', and so on.
Perhaps they're too timid?
I've heard that one bandied about. The reality here is that one would be hard pressed to find a meeker, more socially awkward and reticent group of people than the Japanese.
All of this could at least partially explain the decades long grip that the Moonies continue to have on a lot of people over here. Among other things, The Korea based 'Unification Church' cult is famous for pairing its members off, then staging massive group weddings in rented stadiums, and the like.
I suppose the appeal for a lot of followers is that this type of 'arrangement' totally absolves them from any sort of responsibility for said 'relationship'. The cult sets everything up, and all that's required of the members is that they come to the appointed venue when they're supposed to, and do what they're told - en masse.
One can see where this might be very appealing to a lot of Japanese. All the components are there. Groupism. Following orders. Conforming.
As for more standard 'omiai', the practice continues to enjoy broad social acceptance. Excuses and reasoning aside, I think it simply boils down to laziness. It's a pain in the arse to court potential partners. Time and money factor in...and then there's the emotional mess to contend with when things don't work out, etc., etc.
One will often hear similar lines of reasoning when people are asked what they think of being made to wear school uniforms. 'Oh, it's easy....and I don't have to waste time worrying about what I should wear', and so on. Most people here seem to think that it's much better having decisions made for you, than being put in the awkward position of having to make a choice.
Whatever.
I heartily welcomed the news of second son's wedding when Mina told me about it toward the end of last summer. Anything to shift the targets from our backs and distract Terrorist Mayumi for at least a little while is a very good thing in my books.
In any case, the nuptials were held over in 'scenic' Yokkaichi, which is an hour's drive south west of Nagoya, in neighbouring Mie Prefecture. I had been on the fence as to whether or not I should even attend, given all the ill will and animosity between our two factions over the last year, but we finally decided that my absence would likely put Mina in an awkward position.
In other words, why give her sister any more ammunition? In her widow's crusade to do anything within her power to undermine our marriage, the last thing we need to do is provide another arrow for her quiver.
One would think that she'd welcome my absence...but with people like her, whatever you do, you're ultimately damned. As far as all important appearances, my physical attendance would simply fill a gap, and create an illusion of unity - were anyone in the coming group of in laws to feign an interest and start asking questions.
Fortunately, no one bothered.
To avoid risking the possibility of getting hung up in morning traffic (and any more potential shit with 'sister-in-law dearest') we decided to rip a page out of our Obon playbook, and drive out the evening before.
While mulling our plans and strategies back in September, we decided to book a room in what was being advertised online as a new 'economy hotel' in central Yokkaichi, not far from the station. Lack of adequate and secure available parking aside, the accommodations were actually alright. Not the most spacious room...but new, and definitely not the worst place we've stayed in over the years.
Finally - and as if on cue - the bitter cold and rain of earlier in the week decided to most graciously give way to a spate of sunny and unseasonably mild weather. This meant that there would be no early morning shivering, umbrella juggling and puddle jumping on the way to the venue in our ill-fitting formal attire.
The reception was scheduled for 9:30 am (?!?) at a well appointed local wedding reception facility facing the port of Yokkaichi. We were up at a spritely 5:30 am, did our morning stuff, and arrived with almost forty five minutes to spare.
We sat in the van listening to the Pogues for a bit, not wanting to be the first ones on the scene. The place was nice enough. I wondered if they'd got some kind of deal by booking it so early?
As we walked from our van to the wedding venue's entrance, Mina was having a bit of trouble navigating the cobblestone pathway to the front doors in the formal low heels her sister had loaned her. Absolutely charming. Mina is more at home in running shoes...and not a cosmetic caked, accessory festooned clothes horse like some females I've known.
Of course, Terrorist Mayumi, the Old Lady, Surly Sumo Son, Fat Wife and their two young charges were all there waiting when we walked in. We'd been a bit disappointed to see their cars parked out front as we made our way around the corner from the front parking lot to front doors of the hall. We were both sure that we'd beaten them there.
Mayumi was sporting a fresh perm, which did nothing to flatter her at all. I think I got a short obligatory greeting out of the Terrorist Queen, and a delayed nod and half smile from Baba, who'd fallen off a chair and banged herself up pretty good the day before, and looked like she was literally on her last legs.
Sometimes saying nothing at all is the best and only recourse.
A clutch of the bride-to-be's family were also milling about.
It turns out that they're actually Christians, which is something of a rarity in these precincts.
A lot of Japanese weddings feature a 'faux' Christian component, which is purely for show purposes. They usually hire on a 'cos-play' priest who reads a passage from the holy book and does some class of rehearsed performance. No one questions it, and the service goes off 'under the eyes of God', without a hitch.
Said 'priest' is always some class of gaijin English teacher type, moonlighting as a man-of-the-cloth on weekends for extra cash. I actually donned priest's robes and did a wedding like this years and years ago. It was a one-off thing, filling in for a friend who was vacationing at Disney World with his family. I was shit scared that the clouds would part and some vengeful white bearded spectre would start bellowing, 'Heretic! Heretic!' and hurling bolts of lightening at me.
Nothing can spoil that special moment more than an angry, bearded deity.
Anyways, I digress.
The 'Christian wedding' motif is something the natives grow up seeing in movies and on TV. They buy into what they perceive as the 'esoteric romanticism' of that kind of ceremony, and the 'foreign' visual aesthetics of it all. I suppose it lends some kind of theatrical levity to the more rigid Japanese ceremonial component that always precedes or follows.
I wondered how this would all play out...being that the bride to be's family were purportedly 'real Christians'. Would there be a phony gaijin minister, or a real priest? What on earth would this look like? Would there be a Japanese ceremonial component, to respect the non-Christians present...or to at least afford the bride an excuse to model an extravagant wedding kimono?
As mentioned, members of the bride's family (who I'll ostensibly simply refer to as 'the Christians' from here forward) were circulating around the lounge. There were a few kids in their group, and they were all pretty subdued - with the exception of a mentally handicapped five or six year old boy who was running around the tables willy-nilly, and seemed terribly excited by the whole event in general.
With the exception of Mina, all parties did an admirable job avoiding any temptation to cast even a casual glance in my direction, which suited me just fine. I'd been a bit worried that, being 'Christians', they might mistakenly assume that my gaijin-ness might be on board with all of their God fearing nonsense, and try to approach me.
Fortunately, that didn't happen.
I'd had a double strength CBD gummy after our 6:30 am buffet breakfast (an unexpectedly tasty keema curry) and aimed to fade into the background and make as little of an impression as humanly possible.
We sat there for what seemed like a bit too long, and were finally ushered in to the chapel area just short of 10:00 am. We took our places on a hard-ass wooden bench just behind The Surlies.
There was a woman seated at an organ at the front, just to the right of our row, a couple of middle aged female choral singers on the opposite side, and a centre piece podium at the end of a long, carpeted aisle. Best of all, there was a grand floor to ceiling window behind the priest's pulpit, offering a lovely view of Yokkaichi Port, and the comings and goings on the waterways thereof. I was more than a little glad of that distraction during the minister's over-long ramble, and the obligatory hymn singing. No gaijin cos-player here. This guy appeared to be the real thing. A Japanese 'man of the cloth'.
The singers and organ player did well enough. They even chucked in an English song that sounded like something sentimental and droopy from an old 80's movie...though I couldn't place it specifically. In any case, the choral singers pulled it off without flubbing the English too badly, so a job well done, I figure.
(to be continued...)
Tuesday, December 19th
From an extended, unseasonably mild autumn directly into the frigid clutches of full winter, all within a day and a half. It looks like we may even be 'treated' to a solstice snowfall this Friday. That's a yuletide pleasure I can absolutely do without. The long-range forecast had been for a milder winter than we usually get in these parts, so here's to an early lump of coal in our virtual Losersville Christmas stockings.
I beat the 5:00 am alarm by two minutes this morning, and noticed that my nightshirt was damp around the collar with the chill of a night sweat. Along with the occasional bouts of brain fog, these random episodes have been a weekly thing since I 'recovered' from COVID late last December. I guess these are my little pandemic souvenirs.
As I hustled off to change shirts, the opening chords of that new Rolling Stones single kicked in. I don't know if that's exactly what I wanted rattling about in my head in the frigid pre-dawn hours of this morning, but that's what I got.
As far as a single, I guess 'Angry' is alright. There are probably at least a couple of other songs on there I'd prefer at that ungodly hour, but the cranial Wurlitzer chooses what it chooses. We listened to 'Hackney Diamonds' in the van for a stretch when my sister and her husband were out toward the end of October. The consensus seemed to be that it was 'pretty good' for a gang of 80 year olds...and to its credit, managed to last almost a week and a half before running its course and getting swapped out for The Damned's latest one, which seems to be more up Mina's alley.
Fair enough...she's the driver - and to be fair, Darkadelic is surely the better album.
In any case, I guess it got stuck in my head yesterday morning, when I decided to play through the new 'special edition' of Hackney Diamonds on streaming while I pumped 21km out on the magnetic spin bike. As money grubbing record companies are wont to do around holiday season, a clutch of recently recorded live tracks were suddenly tacked on at the end of the album's regular track order to lure folks back to the trough.
As for me, I was curious to see how the newer material comes across on stage. The beautiful thing about streaming is that one needn't shell out another ¥3500 to get the double cd version (on top of the standard first release I'd already coughed up for) just to listen to eight extra tracks that may or may not warrant owning.
First impression?
They sound a bit more 'rough and tumble' than usual. That trademark Stones groove seems missing...replaced by a more propulsive backbeat that I'm not sure really meshes with the older material. Maybe it's the absence of the late Charlie Watts on drums, or perhaps Jagger (who recently turned 80) feels he has something to prove. They almost sound like a tribute band, aping some earlier version of themselves. I've been a huge fan since I was 14 or 15 years old, and have all their albums. Having also seen them a few times over the last thirty five years, I've got a pretty good idea of what the band 'should' sound like on stage. I guess everyone has expectations, and maybe therein is the problem. It feels a bit like they're trying to make a case that in entering their sixth decade as a unit, their sound is 'still evolving'. Evolution can be a slippery slope sixty years in, especially with all those pesky expectations to fulfill.
The surviving trio are all circling eight decades on this mortal coil. At this point, there are no other legacy bands one could compare them to. I guess there's old man McCartney - but he's kind of unto himself, and not 'a band'. Then there's The Who. They attempted a new album back in 2019. I guess hopes were high for some sort of 'comeback', but COVID came along and essentially paralyzed the live music circuit for almost two years. It was really too bad, because the album was good, and apparently Townshend had spent way more cash putting the whole thing together than originally intended.
This brings us back to the late period 'Stones'. They're in virgin territory. Looking at their upcoming tour's outrageous ticket prices, it feels either like a seminal rock band's potentially final odyssey into 'the great geriatric unknown', or the most cynical money grab in entertainment history.
As for me, I haven't really made up my mind about Hackney Diamonds. I mean, it's nice to have something new to listen to, as opposed to constantly having to plumb through their back catalogue when I'm in a Rolling Stones kind of mood - but will it hold up a couple of years down the road? I guess we'll have to wait and see.
The Yokkaichi Wedding...Part Two
We were all seated in the spacious main dining hall after the ceremony proper wrapped. As far as Japanese weddings go, the crowd was pretty small. I don't think there were more than thirty guests in total - if that. There were five or six tables set, with plenty of space between (which ended up being a lucky thing). There wasn't any real mixing, and everyone pretty much kept to their assigned spots.
Mina and I were seated with the Old Lady at a large table toward the outside of the main cluster. When everyone was settled in, the drink service started. This is usually where the guests consume copious amounts of alcohol and things start to loosen up, but alas, this was not going to be 'that kind of party'.
Looking around, I noticed that nary a single bottle of beer was making it's way to ANY of the tables.
Apparently the Christians had all elected to take tea, instead. Could it be that they were ALL designated drivers? I swallowed hard and wondered if I should just forgo the beer, and order a joyless glass of iced Japanese tea like everyone else. Lord knows I'd made it this far, but was mindful of raising Terrorist Mayumi's ire and getting Mina in shit.
I looked over to Mina and asked if I should just give up, or risk becoming the heathen scorn of the dining hall, and order a beer. It seemed like a massive waste, as there was an iced bucket full of bottles on the far counter, and several bottles of wine - red and white. No hard alcohol, but plenty of wine and beer. I got the all important go ahead, and Mina waived down the young waiter and placed my order. I promptly got the warmest bottle of beer of the entire lot - the 'model' one that wasn't in the ice water bucket with the rest.
Nice.
When everyone in the hall had their beverages of choice, Mina's newly married nephew initiated the 'kanpai' (cheers), and the crowd's glasses of iced tea all clinked together in unison. As the course menu dishes starting rolling out, the bride's father - a thinly bearded, bespectacled and greying individual of slight build took up the microphone and started in on an overlong, rambling soliloquy that mostly flew right over my head - though I was able to pick out bits and pieces, mostly due to his over-use of the Japanese word for God (kami/o kami san). It's typical of fucking Christians to hijack every event they can with their proselytising horseshit. Fortunately, as a dual 'Godless heathen' and 'ignorant gaijin' I was spared the unfortunate details, which Mina would fill me in on later.
It seems that in between praising 'God', 'love' and 'family', he alluded to an old Japanese pop song about a father giving away his daughter, and wanting to punch her husband-to-be in the face... just because I guess that's what stupid, possessive fathers fantasize about doing. To make things more awkward, he then gestured toward Mina's nephew, and said, '...but LOOK AT HIM', I guess trying to make a joke of the fact that he's 'a big guy' - not 'big' like his obese shithead brother, but tall, and of large frame. What a douchebag.
Mina was thoroughly unimpressed.
Some lions having lunch with a Christian, back in antiquity.
I quietly picked over the tasty but over-small course dishes as they came by, drank beer and tried to ignore the incessant coughing coming from a guy at the bride's extended family table closet to us. Fortunately for us, they weren't actually that close. Of course, almost no one could be bothered to wear a mask. Looking around, it seemed that Fat Wife's baggage 15 year old son from her first marriage and I were actually the only masked individuals in the hall.
I looked over at Mina, who was busy minding the Old Lady, who wasn't looking very chipper or spritely, and whispered,
'Oh great. COVID.', nodding my head ever so slightly in the direction of the in-laws table.
Sometimes I hate being right.
Fast forward to Monday evening, and Mina gets a call from Terrorist Mayumi, who's panicking because newly married second son woke up with a fever and tested positive for COVID that morning. No...there was no 'honeymoon' - in fact, not even a weekend getaway for the newlyweds. Their whole arrangement seems to be long on calculated practicality, and short on anything even remotely resembling warmth or romance. After the wedding, they both went back to their respective family homes, and continued on as if nothing had changed.
Word is that they will move in together sometime in the spring, but details on that seem spotty, at best.
Weird. Weird. Weird.
Anyways, after his diagnosis, newly 'married' and recently febrile number two son, being the good and gentle lad that he is, got in his car and beat it out the family's second house in Gifu to self isolate, and hopefully avoid spreading it any further.
Of course, the big concern was Baba getting a dose of it.
Terrorist Mayumi initially tried to negotiate the Old Lady's COVID refugee passage over here, which I very grudgingly agreed to, as long as she tested negative at a clinic first. Fairly simple, common sense stuff; yet this is where everything went hard south.
For some reason, Mayumi had decided that since neither of them were presenting with a fever, they didn't need to test. Never mind the fact that they both had hoarse, rough throats - a tell-tale symptom of the latest COVID variant making the rounds in these parts. She had no interest in the medical links Mina was sending her, or the fact that I'd tested positive for COVID last year with a temperature under 37C.
Nope. She wasn't having any of it.
So, hours were wasted, the two sisters texting and calling back and forth, Mina trying desperately to convince her to just take Baba in to Dr. Cauliflower Ears' clinic in the morning and just get a test done. Thirty minutes, in and out, and everyone knows what's what. Peace of mind.
Nope. No way.
Mina offered to go buy two home test kits, then take them over and test them both herself, but Mayumi wouldn't have it. She apparently already had test kits there, but refused to crack them open. She even went so far as the tell Mina that the whole thing was tiresome to her, and, "don't come".
It struck me that in the hours Terrorist Mayumi spent bargaining, denying and gaslighting Mina, they could have gone and been tested two or three times over.
By Wednesday, Surly Sumo Son had it, too.
Predictably, the situation had quickly devolved into a complete shit show. Still...she refused to go in and get either of them tested, because neither of them had a fever. Never mind that they were both self isolating at this point - that is, when they weren't both out possibly spreading the virus at work and day service, respectively.
At this fork in the road, it's worth remembering that a similar string of events (coupled with Mayumi's then equally steadfast determination not to listen to Mina's advice and seek a second opinion) finally culminated in her husband succumbing to COVID after a bitter struggle in September, 2020.
Apparently some people never learn.
A week on, and fortunately we're both fine over here. The recently 'sort of married' second son finished up his five days of Paxlovid in Gifu and is back home. Obese douche Surly Sumo Son could have gone to self isolate in Gifu, but didn't give enough of a shit about anyone else to bother, resulting in the Old Lady basically having to stay in her room upstairs for a week.
I assume he and Fat Wife are still alive. It appears that she somehow avoided getting infected, despite sharing quarters with sick her lard ass husband. Little Bully Boy and Another Man's Son both came out unscathed. This is the second time that Another Man's Son has dodged the COVID bullet while other family members got sick.
With less than two weeks left in the year (and the dual dubious joys of my birthday and Christmas coming down this weekend) I can't say that I'll be a bit sorry to see the tail end of 2023.
The skin cancer surgery and plantar's wart odysseys that saw me become a regular face over at the Tokai City dermatology clinic and Meidi University Hospital oncology sections were experiences that I could have wholly done without. My scraggly salt and pepper winter beard seems to have come in pretty nicely, and it manages to mostly cover the scar on my right cheek. Of course I'll need to shave it off for my quarterly going over at the oncology section in the middle of January...but for now I can kind of pretend its not there. My sister and her husband were encouraging, saying that they could 'barely notice' the scar while they were out visiting at the end of October/beginning of November.
They were blessed with a spate of abnormally pleasant weather for the duration of their two weeks out here. With the exception of a kind of shitty Airb&b (they went for the cheapest place going), it was a pretty great visit. As we get in to our mid to late 50's, it's always kind of lurking in back of my mind that every one of these visits could well be the last one. With that in mind, it's so important to make the most of each opportunity. Kudos to Amber and Gord for putting us on their itinerary, and making the time to come and see us. With things as they are over here, it doesn't look like travel will be in the cards for us anytime in the near future. It was fun taking them around Losersville and the surrounding areas.
While Amber has been out here four times, it was Gord's first visit to Japan (or anywhere in 'Asia', for that matter).
It's interesting getting a newcomer's perspective on things over here. A rare opportunity to sort of look at things from a fresh, unbiased perspective.
My take away?
I think I regained an appreciation for a few things over here that I've recently tended to overlook in favour of grousing and whinging over the usual stuff. Specifically, that there really are some pretty nice (and even interesting) easily accessible places in our local area. I'm talking parks, and well tended and maintained public spaces like shrines and temples. It's possible to go out for a walk and not step in human feces, or worry about used condoms and blood filled syringes littering the parks and playgrounds. While there absolutely are issues with homelessness and addiction here, we don't have to contend with the Walking Dead/zombie apocalypse scenario that a lot of comparably sized western cities like Vancouver do.
Again, that's not saying that this place is utopian, or free of problems (it's not)...but from an outsider's perspective, the visible differences are apparently striking. Their verdict seemed to be that Deadbeat City is actually, 'a pretty nice place', and that for someone that bitches so much, I basically have a good life.
They're not wrong.
So, that's what I'll take in to the New Year with me. A bit of renewed appreciation for some of the more positive stuff just out our door that I too often take for granted.
It was also nice to feel a sense of family again, if only for a couple of weeks. Hopefully there will be another visit before the clock runs out. Amber is the only one of my siblings that has the time or inclination to come over here. I'm sure that my younger brother in Canada would love to come, but he's stuck with the endless responsibilities of a homeowner and the parent of a couple of teenagers. Maybe one day.
My more distant American siblings are exactly that. More distant. They have their own families, lives and responsibilities ...and not having spent those crucial 'formative years' growing up together, there is naturally a bit of a disconnect. That said, from what I know of them, they are kind people, doing their best to live good lives.
Mina and I made a trip out to visit for almost a week in 2016, and everyone was very nice and hospitable. I was grateful to them for making an effort, and so glad that Mina had a great time.
As my father's Alzheimer's disease advances in to its late stage, and situations in our 'post COVID' world at large continue to mostly change for the worse, the time for those kind of visits has passed.
I make a point of video calling on his birthday, and holidays like Christmas - mostly to touch base with his live-in caregiver and see how he's doing, as he can't really vocalize anymore. If I'm lucky he'll open his eyes, but I don't think he actually knows who I am at this point. It's a tough situation.
Sadly, we weren't close when it mattered, mostly as a result of nearly a decade spent estranged due to lingering animosity between he and my late Mum after we moved from Los Angeles to Canada in 1969.
When he re-engaged, I was in junior high school, twelve or thirteen years old, and not quite the son he'd been hoping for. I wasn't athletic, loud or gung-ho. 'American', if you will. I was kind of quiet. A bit shy, and retiring. 'Artsy', for lack of a better term. He was a loud, brash sort of guy. He had a bit of a swagger, and loved to brag about his days in the U.S. Navy, and how successful he was. I don't think he knew how to connect with me. He bought me some nice stuff.
Some people figure 'stuff' can replace heart, or time spent. It just creates cynicism.
Even at that young age, I knew the difference. Kids aren't stupid. I liked getting 'the stuff', though. By then, it would have taken little short of a Herculean effort to forge any kind of real father-son bond. Too much time had been lost, and that ship had sailed.
He'd remarried twice since my Mum, and had a daughter with his second wife, and adopted a son. He brought me out to L.A. once when I was fourteen or fifteen, but it was all pretty awkward, and I didn't like it at all. He would push and push for me to do this or that, and I would start freaking out and pull away. I think he ultimately meant well, but things were just un-natural. I was a pretty sensitive kid, and he wasn't very patient, by nature.
I did get to know his two kids a bit over the course of a few summer visits in the mid 80's. We had some good times.
At a certain point, he seemed to adopt a more stand-offish attitude. I was apparently someone he simply couldn't understand. He had the ability to be a bit mean, and I think that as time went on, his demeanor somewhat set the tone for how his other kids would view me. Sadly, children tend to absorb and reflect the behaviours they see in their parents.
Fast forward to present day, and I'll be slotting in my usual holiday call early on Monday or Tuesday morning. Hopefully I won't interrupt his family's visiting time, or cramp anyone's style too much. It's pretty much a crap shoot. If he opens his eye's or looks at the camera, it'll be a win. Mina always says to do the right thing, and do it for yourself first and foremost. At the end of the day, no one needs any additional regrets. In spite of everything, he is my only surviving parent.
As for Mina and I, we'll be braving a highway trek out to the Costco in Chita after I finish Ashtray Face Lady's Scrappin' Tweens last class of the year tomorrow morning. We'll exchange gifts and do the usual thing over there. They always give me something cool for my birthday. Last year's 'presento' was a most excellent Star Wars t-shirt, a balloon and some flat supermarket cake. Since they're teens now, I give them something that they can use - GooglePlay cards. This year they get ¥2000 each, and some fresh donuts. That pretty much wipes out my class fee for the day...but they're kids, and we've been doing the class for going on 8 years now, so that's the way it goes. I'll be 'taking one for the team', and all.
After that, it's off to Costco. Mina has her heart set on some festive sweets and a rotisserie chicken...and from there, I suppose the sky's the limit. We always come back with a bunch of random stuff we never really knew we needed, because we didn't really need it. It's never cheap, either.
'Ho,ho,ho', indeed.
At the end of next week, we'll be in to Shogatsu (the Japanese New Year's holiday period). I'm kind of on pins and needles waiting to see what Terrorist Mayumi will spring on us to totally flatten the mood. Time will tell.
Barring any 'special content' surprise entries, I think that's it until the crack of spring. If anyone's managed to stick with my cud chew this far, 'happy holidays' from Deadbeat City, 'may the road rise to meet you' in 2024, and all that good stuff.
Oh...and do remember,
"No matter where you go...there you are".
There and nowhere else.
Sláinte!
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