December 26, 2018

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

Freezin' season's greetings from Ottawa
Boxing Day! A belated Merry Christmas to all our family and friends. 
Just over a year ago we moved to Tennessee. Our journey had brought us to North America. Now, settled into our new location and life, and relatively close to Ottawa (ha ha), 'twas nigh time for us to travel north and spend Christmas with family.
Accordingly, this traditional Christmas Day photo with the Rising Daughters™ in front of the tree is anchored with a large, bearded, happy elf. Uncle Steve-O.
As you can see, Grampa is also in high spirits, as we bask in the fire and open our gifts. 

So many things to be grateful for this Christmas. But it suffices to say that I hope every one of you reading this shares our good fortune on this special holiday, wherever you may be. 

Peace, joy and a Joyeux Noel to all. And a superb start to 2019, too!

December 22, 2018

Drugged by Disney Part II

More stories of supply side decadence from our trip to Disney World.
Day 3. The Animal Kingdom theme park was wild. We breezed through security and hauled ass up through the footpath lanes filled with families. They had exactly the same mission we did: get on the most popular rides before anyone else. These Type A families piss me off. Of course, we’re different….
We made it to the Everest Expedition roller coaster. The waiting area was well done—the faux train station evoked memories of India (even though it was supposed to depict Nepal.) We got on board the coaster and the reverse motion part of this zooming experience was gullet-jarring fun. The girls really enjoyed this one. 
But there was so much going on that they were usually distracted. We walked an awful lot in the 90-degree heat. I was OK with that, but by mid-day my body felt like it was coated in lanolin. We also trudged along nature trails and saw many exotic birds and bugs. The bug-themed 3D movie attraction was marvelous. At the end, after being lulled with huge video screens filled with images of creepy bugs and flying insects, they unleashed what felt like bugs running underneath the seats. The sensation similar to a giant cockroach scuttling under your bum -- a wee shocker.
Switching gears…Day 2’s race car test track at EPCOT was not only a pretty ingenious automaker PR project, it got my need for speed fixed right quick. The highlight of this one is a speed run on a track around the exterior of the building at a top speed of 65 miles per hour. A bit of a pucker factor thanks to some very sharp turns. It is billed as the fastest Disney theme park attraction ever built.

Which brings us to Day 4 at Disney Hollywood’s Aerosmith roller coaster ride. I got past Steven Tyler’s grinning mug quickly, hoping the ride was worth it. It’s a simulated hyper limousine ride in L.A., but in reality a 1.5 minute souped-up roller coaster ride with an inverted spin. When the back of your noggin clonks against the padded headrest the adrenalin kicks in. Again, the Disney elixir of fun and fame and jacked-up sensory experience. The happiest place on Earth doesn’t happen by chance. These rides are better than crack, my friends.

A visit to a Disney Park is about collecting experiences. There are hundreds of ways to indulge your taste buds. But I’d rather spend an enormous amount of money maximizing rides and interactive experiences than stuffing overpriced crap food down my throat. So, as was mentioned before, we grazed and also brought in our own lunch fare.
One magnificent exception was this story of utter gluttony. After exiting the park, we spied a Boston Lobster outlet on the way back to our hotel, resulting in a huge crustacean dinner fiesta. The girls feasted on lobster and crab and everything they could gobble. Me, too, except it was steak. We were all really, really full, and really, really satisfied. I’m surprised that there isn’t a Disney Lobster Park yet.

Wrapping it up:
As a father, where else but Disney World can I go to spend a small fortune for travel and hotel, have no say in where we go or do while inside the venue, listen to my children complain and whine about how hard they are done by, and yet still rave about the experience?

Maybe I should shit-can my grand "sense" theory of why Disney Parks are so successful. Likely it boils down to something all human beings value and enjoy: smiling, happy people relishing a grand experience together and forgetting the pressures of the outside world, if only for a short time.

In our experience, it is the happiest place on Earth, and Disney is peerless at keeping you hooked.

December 20, 2018

Drugged by Disney Part I

Family visits to Disney theme parks are so good they’re pure evil. I have a theory why these entertainment complexes are beloved throughout the world. It’s because Disney leaves nothing to chance—they saturate a visitor’s five senses, provoke tactile overload, leave you wanting more.

Some people love Disney so much they make it a mission to visit all 13 Disney parks worldwide. We’ve only experienced five so far, in Tokyo and Orlando. But we’ve been repeatedly drawn to Walt Disney’s magic just like billions of people before us.
Lady E. and M. in Tokyo Disney in 2014 (left), versus the recent trip to Disney in Florida (right).

Let’s explore The Rising Family’s™ fall visit to Disney’s four Orlando, Florida, theme parks using homo sapiens’ five main methods of perception, our senses, as the prism.
On Day 1 of our trip to the Disney World Resort in Florida the first thing that signaled we were entering family entertainment’s Mecca -- the Magic Kingdom -- was the immaculate highway with the colorful signage screaming “IT’S DISNEY TIME, BABY.” 
Next came the massive parking lots, replete with easily recalled parking symbols and numbers. Choreographed transfer trains. Efficient security searches (yet with smiling, cheerful guards!). And waves upon waves of people. It’s all rather overwhelming.

Day 2’s EPCOT Center experiences were focused on visits to various nations’ cultural pavilions and restaurants that ring a lake. We took a counter-clockwise walking loop and called on the Canada pavilion. There we viewed the ‘all about Canada, eh’ movie featuring Martin Short. It was good, lighthearted fare, all framed by a mini Chateau Laurier and indigenous peoples’ art from British Columbia.
We lunched at the Japanese pavilion’s Endo Restaurant, in the shadow of a full-sized replica of a Buddhist shrine. I genuinely felt like we had stumbled upon in a little piece of Japan. The only thing pulling us back to the reality of being in the USA was a couple of angry customers volubly complaining to the polite-but-firm Japanese cashiers who clearly had taken assertiveness training.

On Day 4, we went to Disney’s Hollywood Studios park. Our first ride was the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, seemingly a replica of an old 1930s hotel turned into a gravity-defying ride. 
Courtesy of the Orlando Weekly
We went up, strapped into our seats. It was dark. Then the entire room was hurtled up, then abruptly plunged down into the inky darkness. Marina was screaming and clutching my arm, freaked out by the dark and the feeling of sudden weightlessness. Hilarity ensued when the extended downward drop caused Elena’s popcorn container top to fly off, with the popcorn suspended in front of our eyes. Then a guy behind us said, “hey, it’s popcorn.” There was collective laughter.
After this trip, I will always associate the infernal “It’s a Small World” tune with Disney. It greets you as you enter the parks in the morning.

Anyway, back to our story. Another sound that I enjoyed was the narration during Walt Disney's “Carousel of Progress,” a rotating theater show attraction. First debuted amid the rosy optimism of mid-1960s America, it features a series of vignettes describing the upward climb of a typical American family from the advent of electricity around 1900, through subsequent technological advances achieved through the 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, and then abruptly skipped to the almost-present.
Courtesy of Walt Disney World Resorts 
Basically, a folksy guy in a kitchen depicts progress in America though the products that made people's lives better. I had more than a few wiseass remarks to share, contrasting the bubbly optimism of this attraction with some of the..err…social challenges we are living through lately. 

The following day I could not evade the sounds of campy 1970s rock courtesy of the .38 Special concert near the American Adventure pavilion at EPCOT. Bluuurg!

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the buzzing sound of commerce that hummed in every park we visited over the course of four days. Think of cash registers ringing mixed with the clean ssssshnick sound of a debit cards slicing through the payment sensor channels. The soundtrack of succe$$.
We walked around for hours every day. Our noses were inundated by many scents—for example, regular whiffs of food being cooked in restaurant kitchens, cotton candy or ice cream stalls, or hot dog and popcorn vendors. Our olfactory senses were sozzled with whiffs of BBQ, sweets, citrus and spices. We grazed more than feasted, as much due to the sheer variety of food as our hectic schedules. Maximizing attraction rides times, seeing and doing as much as we could each day, all amid the 90-degree heat and humidity, dampened the desire for heavier foods. (Still, we saw the occasional herd of Germans gnawing on Turkey legs. Uggh.

But what a cornucopia of delicious aromas, everywhere you went. Well done, Disney! 

To be continued.

November 30, 2018

Letters from Marinaland


Marina’s own words, unfiltered

On education and work
“Why we don’t want to go to school or work on Monday.”  
I think we do not want to go to school or work on Monday because just yesterday we all had so much fun! I don’t want to go to school on Monday too. The girls and boys who love to go to School on Monday is a very good thing. But most of the people reading this mostly agrees on me. Right? That’s what I am thinking of too. Just thinking of going to school on Monday makes me sick.
 

On relationships between the sexes
The Man
We are very bored. We men does nothing at work but watch baseball, drink beer, wine (sic, whine), play, sleep.

The womens.
Rush rush. We work hard.

On hamsters and avarice
Marina needs help. I need to have a hamster. Without a hamster I am not going to do anything. I can’t live without a hamster. I waited for 8 years. I am 8 years old everybody. Now I have responsibilities to keep my pet healthy and safe and alive and I know what I am doing. I am going to pay in my own money. It is my money but I don’t have enough money please help. I counted my money like a 1,000 times so please give me money.
Help. I need money.

October 31, 2018

Halloween: the real deal

It’s been decades since I took part in a North American Halloween. Goblins, Disney characters, Marvel superheroes, and kids wearing something they claimed was a costume all materialized at my door. They all came to receive candy in exchange for a few words and smiling, or pretending to be scared. It was wonderful!

Last weekend we frequented several trunk-or-treating events held in local churches’ parking lots. The Rising Daughters® had a field day. So many cars with scary themes with cool owners who just handed you candy! Heaven! I didn’t have this experience growing up so I didn’t know what to expect on Halloween, either.

Lady E. had put together her own costume—an aqua blue M&M—to match those of some school friends she was going trick or treating with. Marina was Batgirl (no explanation required); it just fit her taste and most certainly her personality. So they both went off trick or treating and had a fine time. 
Naomi walked around the ‘nabe with friends and their kids in tow. I stayed home and doled out the bonbons.

There is nothing too complicated about it: making kids smile by providing candy is a boon to the soul. It just makes you happy by making THEM happy. It was gratifying to reacquaint myself with another custom I grew up with, but haven’t experienced as an adult, in quite some time.

We lit up the house with bats, carved the pumpkins. I served the neighborhood trick-or-treaters. 

Alas, no ghosts, goblins, zombies or crazies showed up. Maybe next year…?

October 16, 2018

When Hammy met Aima


What kid doesn’t want a pet? For the last half-year or so Marina asked us for a puppy, and soon initiated her lobbying and PR campaigns to try to make it happen. (I blame YouTube cute-puppy videographers for this.) 

At first, she cajoled, played cutesy, promised spotless good behavior, an end to the Blitzkrieg against her sister, and superior studying habits. When that strategy didn’t work, she  went negative: petulant, with guilt trips galore. I guess she thought this formula might catapult her to becoming a puppy owner.

We thought she might outgrow the puppy thing, as though it was a stage of young girlhood. We spoke of responsibilities like walking, cleaning, and many years of commitment to a pet. We visited a dog shelter so she could see the reality up close. We maintained “no way” message discipline, implemented further diversionary tactics, and refused to budge. Yet M. was undeterred in her mission.

As parents, Naomi and were united in the theory that pets are great and dogs are truly best friends.  Naomi had both dogs and cats as pets when she was a kid. We both believe it is major commitment to keep a dog properly. But we also value our mobility and freedom to frolic more than positives a dog or cat brings to a family.
Still, I began to feel a bit guilty. And the C-word popped into my head.
Compromise.
A word oft explained and promoted during our daughters’ quarrels.

I offered a concession. I had a rat when I was a kid. Why not propose a similar middle-way with my Rising Daughters™? Given our Maginot Line of “No” to owning a dog or cat, Marina recognized this might be her best bet and she was soon on board.
The chain reaction was that Lady E. expertly maneuvered for an approval of her own pet purchase. She ended up buying a fish instead of a hamster (with her own saved allowance). Several trips to local pet stores resulted in the Rising Family® adding two new members: “The Hammer” hamster and Aima the Betta fish. 
Aima means love space, according to Elena.
Sure, the kids had to use their allowance savings to pay for the pets. So our parental inclination to use this a teaching moment, i.e. appreciation and understanding of money and purchase discipline, was one factor. Check. Then there was positive impact of pets on childhood development. Check again.
"Another photo for your silly blog, Dad? Oh....alright...get it over with."
Ultimately it was the right alchemy of compromise and cuteness that brought Hammy and Aima into our lives.

Ed. note: Marina choosing “Hammy” was in no way inspired by my own dim memories of the “Hammy the Hamster” TV show from the early 1980s. Man those creator/narrators were really smokin’ the weed.

September 30, 2018

Mo' Sports Day

In September, Lady E. & M’s supplementary language school held a sports day.  It was a small piece of the Japanese education system in action in middle Tennessee.  Still, experiencing this traditional Japanese rite of passage while we are living here in the South was somewhat bewildering. I felt I’d had a day of being back in Japan—and I loved that day of limbo somewhere between the two cultures. 
Recent trade friction aside, the kids are alright
Just like in Nippon this sports day was one big track meet mixing in calisthenics, bonkers games, and die-hard martial marches. The kids were split into class teams and ran relay races including a wackier version with huge truck tires. They gamely offered up slapstick ball tosses, ran obstacle courses, danced, sang, built human pyramids, and went through an elaborate paper/rock/scissors contest involving everyone, including parents. But it's better than being in a classroom all day on a Saturday, right? The Big Idea remains to teach students about the virtue of healthy competition and doing one’s best, all the while learning how to cooperate within a team. The building blocks of Japanese society, basically.

The mid-summer heat and humidity were still oppressive. If any of the parents, myself included, had to do more than one of these games we’d need paramedics to remain standing. As it stands, I got sunburned again and yakked it up with other parents using my deteriorating Japanese skills. Naomi soaked up the cultural vibe and chatted with her acquaintances.

Some of the differences between the ‘real deal’ sports festivals I’d experienced in Japan compared to the Volunteer State version were:
- It's wasn’t necessary to line up at 0600 to reserve a good photo vantage point at the sports day venue; lots o’ space here.
- Old habits die hard. By 0730 there were huge family-sized sun tents erected in a neat ring around the track and field pitch. Parents eschewed the usual humble blue plastic sheet for more space and sun protection, comfort, and unrepentant dozing while the kids did their thing. Yeti coolers everywhere!
- Since most of students’ parents were expat Japanese here on work assignments, there were fewer grandparents present. Very few gaijins, too.
- The event started and ended on time. Yet somehow it lacked that precision, the esprit de combat that you feel in the air with the strict adherence to schedules and loads of “gaman” (enduring with patience and dignity) so venerated in Japan.
- Very-visible sheriffs were on duty protecting us from gun nuts.

Did I have fun? Yessir, absolutely. As I mentioned, it was like being back for a day in Japan, providing the fish out of water elation I seem to relish.

And the Rising Daughters™ appeared to have also enjoyed the day. They did their part during their team events. Both E. & M showed some decent sprinting prowess. Elena was the anchor for her grade’s girl’s team and won her leg of the relay race. Marina was a close second against a bunch of girls one year older than she was. 
The school principal sealed the close of the day with a properly formal farewell message amid the clatter of chairs folding and tent pegs clacking as distracted parents pulled down their sun tents and awaited the kids. Just like back in the land of the rising sun.

Somewhat dehydrated from the heat and humidity, we left for home and stopped for stomach-bloating 26 ounce sodas—only 99 cents at a nearby gas station. God Bless America, too.

September 16, 2018

Green Eggs and M.


School has started for real.

I have been spending time with Marina to help shape her study habits and offer nudges in the right direction. Recently we reached a waypost in connection with her English reading comprehension and phonics. That is, building and protecting her self-confidence as a reader.

Extracurricular reading is part of her school’s recipe for school-parent child-centered learning “partnership.” Ofttimes my book suggestions were derided by the M-ster as boring. As a fun and less challenging diversion I suggested “Green Eggs and Ham." This is the Dr. Seuss book I read to the girls when they were toddlers, reinforced by YouTube views of the old CBS animation from the 1960s.
As Marina bit into the good doctor’s rhymes her facial expressions took on a mischievous bent. Her brow furrowed when she recognized familiar sections, perhaps triggering memories of me reading it years ago. As she read aloud the words: “That Sam I am, That Sam I am, I do not like that Sam I am,” the tumblers seemed to fall into place. As we burrowed deeper into the text, roughly halfway through the book, she smiled and uttered, seemingly to herself, “I can really read this.”
Courtesy of CBS Productions
It was music to my ears. She generally reads with gusto and with incredulity at the words she’s discovering. It's tough work for her, and she earns each one, sometimes grudgingly. Still, it’s gratifying to watch your kids expand their horizons right in front of you, real-time.

We’re playing catch-up ball right now, but we are turning this franchise around!

August 30, 2018

Late summer scenes

Let’s start with me 
This is my usual half-assed version of a selfie. Is the forlorn look on my mug a cry of ‘I don’t want to go back to work’ or the existential hell in Delta’s low cost carrier terminal at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport?


Sleeping on the floor of the Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport
The Rising Ladies® returned to the USA in late July. On the way, “acts of God” materialized which ultimately stranded them overnight in the (you guessed it) Minneapolis-St.Paul Airport until the next connecting flight was available. Delta Airlines provided…umm…blankets and futons so they could sleep on the ground in the terminal mall. That’s customer service! (Not.)

Williamson County Fair
Nashville hosts a county fair every summer. We were vulnerable to its charms. The weather was bleaching hot and humid. We drank lots of sweet tea with lemonade to stay hydrated. Saw the animals in the agriculture stalls. It was fun, but a bit fetid.

Conversely, the luring aroma of food stalls; the shrieks of joyous kids on the rides; and the general merriment, were infectious. We had a good ‘ol fashioned day of family fun. Marina and I went inverted on the Majestic; Naomi and Lady E. went ballistic on the Twister.

Pool
No surprises here. With the Southern heat and humidity, we occasionally cool off at the nearby pool. ‘Pre-scuba’ lessons abound…I am lobbying my daughters already as future diving buddies…but first, the front crawl must be mastered!

Nashville Zoo
Alas, back to reality, where Saturdays are reserved for Japanese school. My kids are workaholics already! To ease their stress we make Sundays fun-days. One sweltering morning we lit out for day at the zoo. We criss-crossed the grounds a few times and saw most of the animals. Marina, for one, loves animals. However, this picture of her is for the birds.

###

August 26, 2018

The Bitch is Back

Ten years ago I declared my heartache because I had to retire my beloved Kawasaki Eliminator ZL750 (“Sayonara, Two-Wheeled Friend”). I wrote a few whimsical haikus in her honor. Since then, I have driven scooters and sporadically rented motorcycles. 
Old Faithful: Kawasaki ZL750
Nothing has measured up to that bike since.
Until now.
Yes, dear reader(s), the Bitch is Back. I bought a used 1986 Kawasaki Eliminator ZL600 a few months ago and got her certified. I did a bit of work myself to quiet the exhaust noise. Also completed a few short shakedown drives to make sure she was roadworthy. I definitely needed to re-train my two-wheeled road skills on the back roads of Nashville.
What's old is new (to me)
Why buy a 32-year-old motorcycle? The machine was in good shape, only 26K miles, and reasonably priced. I am not planning a long trip on my new/old Kawi; this is just for puttering around on weekends when I have ‘me’ time. More importantly, why not buy it? I love riding motorcycles; this is one indulgence that doesn’t break the bank. It’s also good for my soul.

Despite two attempts, I never did finish "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance," the purported scripture for bike lovers. Riding motorbikes (or their distant cousin, scooters) requires concentration to avoid traffic mishaps. Constant monitoring of the cars around you—potential  hazards, speed, road condition—becomes a state of mind that empties your brain of the unnecessary. On a good day, you are totally in the moment. On two wheels, I find my version of Zen.
In Shikoku, Japan, riding with da boyz
Plus, it’s exciting. Motorcycle touring is the ultimate way to see the sights of the world and experience them with all your senses and full attention. I sincerely believe this deepens my connection to the world and people around me.

Socially, it’s liberating. People tint their car windows to have mobility yet still keep privacy. Roofs and windows hold the weather at bay. Music, radio or videos for passengers assure everyone is distracted.
At the Arctic Circle marker on the Dalton Highway to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, August 2006
Not so with bikes. While riding, I often find myself singing songs to myself. I think about things and make acronyms of these random items so that I can write them down later during a rest stop. You lose your vanity because your clothes get grimy. Helmet head hair is always a threat. You accept when it's hot or cold or raining or windy.

For these reasons, and many more, I just can’t stop my motorcycle riding. Now, with my ZL600, I don’t have to.

July 31, 2018

Things I did while my family was away for six weeks this summer

I am not allowed to post photos of the ladies in my life without prior permission. 
So, some of things I did while they were away for the summer were:
-BreAk ThE RuLes
- I did my laundry. Once. 
Courtesy of Viacom int'l
- Finished the shakedown cruises on my used motorcycle. Two-wheeled motorvatin' again.
- Walked around the inside of the house naked. OK, I actually didn’t do that. Or maybe I did. Either way, live with that image in your head.
- Successfully repaired bald spots on my front lawn with new grass. Yes, I was occasionally so bored I actually worried about my lawn.
- Completed my Pleasure Craft Operator Card online course. This is the first step toward my dream of sailing the seas upon retirement. Powerball, Lotto 6/49--whatever works first.
- Watched an awful lot of Atlanta Braves night games. Thanks, Ted Turner.
- Didn’t watch a single game of the World Cup; I had zero enthusiasm. I played soccer through high school, but I cannot watch it on TV for some reason.
- I didn’t have to clear my browser history every day.
- Started jogging again. Honest, cross my heart. Still a work in progress, but it’s a start (again).
- Fed the two rabbits living in the grove behind our home almost every day. They are early risers like me. When the Zombies come, they're at least two meals’ worth.
- Went to a concert co-headlined by 1990s alt-rock royalty Weezer and The Pixies. I have always loved The Pixies and now consider myself a Weezer fan. 
But I will NEVER take the I-24 home ever again at night while on a motorcycle. Major pucker factor cruising at 70 mph on a dark interstate highway with 18-wheelers barreling up on my six. Great concert. Nasty, frightening midnight ride home.

And on another note…
Spaceman for Governor
Politics is a blood sport these days in the USA. The contrarian in me loves that the gubernatorial election here in Tennessee has a candidate named Bill Lee. 
Why? I see lawn signs with his name and I giggle because all I can think of is ex-Montreal Expos and Boston Red Sox lefty Bill "Spaceman" Lee.
The Spaceman’s worldview and antics – his irreverent attitude to life, unvarying love of the game -- influenced me after I read “The Wrong Stuff” decades ago. It is one of the more entertaining baseball books I've ever read.

The “baseball” Bill Lee is the perfect foil to the odorous bouquet clinging to contemporary politics. 
Happy summer, ya'll.