Season's Eatings

To our friends and family, many far away

a few pics for you of Christmas which we enjoyed today.

I could go on and on with this annoying word play

but, atypically, without further delay…

Peace. Out.

Channeling my Inner Morrison

Jim Morrison was posthumously pardoned last week by the Governor of Florida for his convictions on having exposed himself to the crowd and profanity at a Doors’ concert in Miami in March 1969.



Photo credit: some guy on Wikipedia



Why a gubernatorial pardon now? Beats me. I have read that Gov. Charlie Christ is a fellow Doors fan and since he is leaving office, it might be construed as a parting shot of 1960s happiness from a baby boomer leaving the national stage. Anyway, this is a funny societal turn given all the problems in the world.

What’s the connection to the Rising Daughters blog, you may ask? At my company’s Christmas/new year’s party I once again had the opportunity to get up on stage and belt out a few oldies with our division’s band, called the SKY-B Band. I enthusiastically -- if not all that successfully -- did a cover version of Deep Purple’s “Smoke on the Water” and sang backup on a few other classics. But it was effectively a tribute to my inner Morrison, admittedly the cherubic version circa 1970.

Break on through!



The Lizard King in court, September 1970 (Photo credit: Miami Herald)



The office king on stage, December 2010. (Photo credit: my co-worker, HK-san)

Please note I planned on wearing the beard and hair before I heard about the official pardon. It was just very karmic timing, man.

Similarly, I think that if they allow Shoeless Joe Jackson into the Baseball Hall of Fame, I may hit a home run if there is a company softball tournament this year!

Red Antler Earmuffs Diplomacy

In my corner of the world, the shocking news on November 23 that North Korea had just launched an artillery barrage on South Korea's Yeonpyeong Island made the prospect of a full-blown war on the Korean peninsula less remote than it had been before. It is a real and dangerous ratcheting-up of regional tensions that has global implications. But I have found a potential solution to this geopolitical crisis: spontaneous laughter induced by red antler earmuffs.

Last Friday I was driving down the hill near our apartment on my regular commute to the office. There is a special North Korean school near the top of this hill. So every morning I usually see a long line of students dutifully hiking up to school in their austere, dark uniforms. There was a slight difference this particular Friday. One young female student had put on very colorful red reindeer antler earmuffs which were very visible above the bobbing sea of heads. As I drove past, I glanced in her direction -- she recognized I was a westerner – and then she and I, and all of her immediate coterie of friends, spontaneously cracked up in a burst of laughter. Their faces lit up and I chuckled all the way to the office.

I reckon that if a pair of red earmuffs can bridge generations, language, culture and politics in a split second of sharing, there is no reason why a similar lighthearted government effort cannot keep the peace in northeast Asia. Force the diplomatic and military leaders to have a couple of glasses of soju together and let the laughs fly instead of missiles! I believe humor can trump politics, despite the lunatic and homicidal behavior by the North Korean government. I presume that even the leaders of despotic regimes have a reservoir of humanity, and that’s where the work should start…with a laugh.

Shooting Fish in the Language Barrel

There are different versions of English used in Japan: English the foreign language, English words that enter the general vocabulary through Japanized pronunciation, and in smart-but-contrived quasi-“English” (for example: remote control = ‘remokon’). Use of English in Asia is growing and often results in hilarious and inexplicable gibberish that is subsequently celebrated in websites such as Engrish.com. (The opposite of this is Western people who get tattoos of Chinese characters of which they are unsure of the meaning, occasionally resulting in permanent ink-induced hilarity indelibly marked on their skin…)

Anyway, I’m not heading into a rant about English in Japan or a lecture about pedantic Westerners and their attitude toward Asians’ use of the language. I don’t really care. I think language morphs with time and that the Internet is wreaking havoc on linguistic conventions in a way that global society has yet to really grasp, so why worry about it? If people want to speak understandable English, they’ll learn it. I just like the humorous elements of it all. Irony is a universal concept.

It’s too easy to find oddball English to hack on as it’s an almost-daily occurrence. I do, however, want to add a few unique signs that I have found over the last few months, viz.

Fukku: a hair salon in my neighborhood. Want your stinkin’ hair cut? Oh fer chrissakes, alright. Gimme your damn money. And Fukku you, too. This salon’s marketing tagline: “Service with a forced smile of contempt.”

I Heart Working: really? Japanese people are renowned around the world for their work ethic, but come on. Gimme a break. (I expect this shop to go bankrupt any day.)

Hard-Off Eco-Stadium (in Niigata prefecture):

Too much saltpeter in the hot dogs? Something in the water supply?

Beat Myself: I don't think this magazine cover's intention was to imply this Hiroshima Carp pro ballplayer "waxes his bat."

(Thanks to SDM for this addendum, added 05DEC10)

Season’s Greetings!

Standard Catch-up Post

The weeks have flown by and the Rising Family™ has been swept away by a tidal wave of motion. The calendar has been so filled with full-on fun your humble scribe has been neglecting to chronicle the latest feats of the Rising Daughters. To keep the blog fresh! Keep it crisp! Keep it raw! I will offer a snapshot of our girls’ goings-on written like New York Post headlines. 

“KAGURA” WARRIOR–DEMON KILLFEST ENTHRALLS LADY E.

Elena loves kagura, a type of traditional Japanese music and dance associated with Shinto religion fables. We’ve been to three shows in the past month or so. Hiroshima is one of leading regions for kagura in Japan, and there is no way we can keep Lady E. from watching once she knows there is a show on. Click on the link for a short video I shot at the shrine in our neighborhood.

SPORTS DAY SHOW OF STRENGTH SPAWNS TERROR TOTS TEMPEST

Elena’s school recently held its annual sports day mini-Olympics. Parents relished the skirmishes of rabid preschoolers in frenzied competitions on the immaculate gym floor. This is sold as part of the national holiday in late October to promote sports and physical and mental health.

CANDY CRAZED KIDZ TEAR APART POOR PARENTS IN SUGAR-FUELED SPREE

Otherwise known as Halloween trick-or-treating. Elena was a princess; I was an out-of-shape ballplayer. It was a blast despite lousy weather.

SIX MONTHS WITH PSYCHO SIBLING: M’s STORY OF SURVIVAL

We celebrated Marina’s 6-month birth milestone by going on her first overnight trip outside Hiroshima. The trip featured a visit to a terrific aquarium near Hamada, a small city on the Japan Sea coast about 90 km north of Hiroshima. The aquarium has an adjoining jungle gym complex that was also a hit with the family. On the way back, we swung by the Sand Museum (with the world’s largest hourglass timer!!) —a major boondoggle and source of endless mirth and jokes for me.



Marina, super-happy at six months old

10K MADNESS

-- Foreign Fogey Feigns Fitness in Running Feat --

On November 3, I participated in this year’s Hiroshima Peace Marathon. I ran the 10K and came in at 56:09. Not my best result, not my worst.

Naomi had her hands full with the kids and couldn’t snap a photo of me in action—I wonder why?

As My Motorcycle Gently Weeps

The weather is growing colder, reminding me of the wind’s cold lick on my face and hands at 100 km/h as I blazed down the highways riding motrocycles I owned in the past. I have been meditating about fatherhood today, concerned about morphing into being a parent and nothing else.

I’m frequently defined as a “father of two”, but I have not given up on my other life titles: “motorcycling and scuba diving enthusiast.” Nevertheless, time and financial constraints have dictated a pause in the pursuit of these hobbies. I am passionate about riding bikes and, as prior posts have noted, I am reluctantly taking to the road on a scooter these days. Still, I wouldn’t change a thing and I am extremely lucky to have two terrific children--but kids have higher running costs than motorcycles! A quick glance at past epic riding tours keeps me going for the time being. A positive view of the future – like someday teaching my girls how to ride responsibly – keeps me confident that there are more motorbike adventures that lay ahead.

A few images from my two-wheeled past


Okinawa, Dec 1998, on identical Suzuki RG250 Gammas (with MMP) 



Alaska's Arctic Circle milepost, Aug 2006 (with MMP, Billy and MM [photographer]) on Kawasaki KLR 650s



My enthusiastic embrace of the (four-wheeled) present

Once again with MMP and Lady E., with Combi Do! Kids4 (Sports Version) baby strollers

And the future!

Does being a father mean you have to give up your passions? Of course not. A couple of kids are not the death knell for the motorcycle man. A motorbike is a symbol of freedom, and everyone loves freedom. You gotta fight for what you love, and for me, riding is fun...and for life.

Babysitting M: Harper’s Index

 Date on which I did my first solo babysitting of Marina: 10/10/2010

Hours spent alone together: 5

Number of M’s crying jags without mommy around: 2

Number of coos and smiles: 9

Number of minutes spent sleeping (Marina): 29

Number of minutes spent sleeping (me): 0

Incidents of vomiting on shoulder: 1

Number of poo-poos: 2

Versus average on a normal day at this time: +200%

Of these poo-poos, really runny, multicolored, truly stinky ka-ka: 1

Average time between poo-poo delivery, said poo-poo’s discovery by dad, and diaper change: 6.5 minutes

Total number of diaper changes (including pee-pee): 5

Feeling of relief when mommy arrived home: immeasurable.

Estimated number of months until the next time dad will babysit: 2

Reference: http://harpers.org/index/