You Can Take the Boy Out of Texas, But You Can't Take Texas Out of the Boy

My Sweet Baby James will marry the Amazing Emily the week before Christmas in Texas.

Yes, I'm thrilled. We all fell in love with Emily when she visited Japan with James last year. She brings out the best in my boy and what mother isn't secretly relieved when her son falls in love with a girl with her own looks (beautiful) and personality (witty, bright, and confident). But please don't point out the similarities to James until after the wedding lest he get cold feet . . .

All the bridesmaids hail from Texas. The groom's sister hasn't lived there since she was nine, however, so she's likely the only member of the wedding party who will be wearing her first pair of cowboy boots when she prances down the aisle. Fortunately she has a fashionable Texan friend to advise her on the subtle nuances of dressy v. casual rodeo footwear. (I used to know this stuff but it's been a few years since I two-stepped around the dance floor at Billy Bob's in Fort Worth.)

The ripple effects of Royal Weddings are fairly well known -- Diana's hairdo and Kate's hosiery, for instance -- but those occurred after the actual ceremonies. The stylish Emily and James are trend-setters of a higher order. Fashionable young girls are already sporting cowboy boots on the streets of Kamakura.

Now if only I could figure out what to wear.  

The Boy Who Has Everything: A Birthday Dilemma

Pip is 19 today. In some ways -- vocabulary, insights, sense of humor -- he's always been old beyond his calendar years. But in other ways he hasn't changed all that much since he was a toddler stacking soda cans on the kitchen floor.

We haven't bought him a gift yet. He doesn't need much of anything but he's been angling for a three-volume history of China so I'll probably invest in the first volume and see how it goes. He hasn't asked me to buy him a book for nearly a year. College does that to a person I suppose.

I think the best gift I can give him right now is my time. When I tried that the day before yesterday, he dragged me into Pokemon Center in Yokohama. I lasted all of three minutes before escaping to the book store to hunt down the British version of the Harry Potter series. His father has a greater tolerance for Pikachu than I.

"If I was too old for Barbie at 10, you're too old for Pikachu at 19!"

This week I think we'll spend some quality time folding laundry together and cleaning his room.  Maybe I'll teach him how to pot plants.

The Edo-Tokyo Museum

Our budding urban planner suggested we visit the Edo-Tokyo Museum and spend a morning gazing at dioramas, scale models, cutaway rooms, and hundreds of artifacts collected since the city of Edo (now Tokyo) was first conceived by Tokugawa Ieyasu 450 years ago.  What a great idea!

The museum is housed in a building modeled after ancient Japanese elevated grain storage houses.  I know this because I splurged on the English version of the museum guide just before we exited the museum four hours later.

Sashimono Woodworker

From the ticket booth on the third floor plaza, a vast open space, we rode an escalator directly to the permanent exhibition area on the sixth floor.  The exhibits continue on the fifth floor and the other floors are devoted to storage, restaurants, a gift shop, and library.

Kate lugs water from the river in the Edo era

Matt zips around Tokyo during the Meiji Era

The scale models alone are worth a return trip, but I'm going to spend some time studying that guide first.

Takashimaya! Shinjuku! Kudasai!

We spent Suzi's last three nights in Japan at the New Sanno Hotel in Tokyo.  "How did you manage to reserve two rooms for three consecutive nights?" I asked the Ancient Mariner in amazement.  "I'm not quite sure," he confessed, "but I suspect all those room-hogging Department of Defense teachers are too busy packing for their taxpayer-funded summer hiatus to visit Tokyo this week."  After almost twenty years, I think my sarcasm might be rubbing off on him.

Mike and Matt plotted a trip to the electronic district Tuesday morning and called it "quality bonding time before Matt leaves for college."  I had other plans for Suzi and Kate. 

Nice use of rotting branch

"My friend Hiroko has invited us to meet her in Shinjuku to see an Ikebana exhibit with some other friends."

The Sykes sisters have spent a combined total of seven minutes arranging flowers in our nearly 113 (!) years on earth but we are always open to new experiences, especially those involving lunch.  Kate, of course, would not dream of missing the rare opportunity to see her godmother and mother navigate a cultural event.  So off we went.  In a taxicab, no less, which made the morning that much more special.  "Takashimaya!  Shinjuku!  Kudasai!" she bade the driver.  "Donder!  Blitzen!  Rudolph!" they giggled to themselves.

Scary vine strangling a banana leaf

The last time I counted -- about five minutes ago -- there were ten Ikebana schools, each professing a different approach or philosophy.  Sogetsu Ikebana, which Hiroko is studying, is based on the belief that anyone can practice the way of flowers anywhere, and with almost anything.   

A campfire perhaps 

The Sogetsu School preaches accessibility.  They believe Ikebana ought to be inclusive and global and not an exclusive aspect of Japanese culture enjoyed by a limited number of people.

(Frankly, I was quite enamored by the use of twigs and branches.  I see it might be possible to spend a lot less money on clear plastic yard bags and a lot less time bagging my neighbor's intrusive vines when I get back to Norfolk.)

Individual, imaginative, and extremely patient

Sogetsu recognizes that every person is unique.  Students are encouraged to be individual and imaginative.

 

Suzi and I invested in several portable plastic vases that can double as wine or beer coolers.  You'll just have to imagine this until I catch up with my chronology.

 

The exhibit was held at the Takashimaya Department Store which is about three thousand times bigger than the NYC version on Fifth Avenue.  Like many large Japanese department stores, Takashimaya rents floor space to other retailers and restaurants.  Some of us were excited to see an entire floor of Yuzawaya fabrics, yarns, and other craft supplies.  The others were relieved to see the line at the cash register was too long to allow the fanatics to shop without rudely postponing lunch.

 

Hiroko presented beautiful fans in lovely fan cases to Suzi and Kate during lunch.  The thoughtfulness of my Japanese friends continues to astound and humble me.

 

Hisayo snapped pictures of us near the Yuzawaya entrance.  I look terrible in one and Kate looks pretty awful in the other.  I would not post either one but Suzi is rarely photographed and Hisayo captured her essence wonderfully.  Which to post?  What's a mother to do?

In the interest of international diplomacy, Peevish blinks at the same time as Yoko and Hiroko.

Back:  Peevish, Suzi, Valerie
Front:  Yoko, Kate, Hiroko

  Next:  Edo Museum at Last!

Tokyo Tower

Overheard in Roppongi on June 9:

"Hey, Mom!  What's this orange metal thing that looks like the Eiffel Tower?"

"It's Tokyo Tower, a television antenna erected in 1958.  The tower is over 1,000 feet high and has two observation decks, the Grand Observation Platform at 492 feet and the Special Observation Platform at 820 feet."

"I think you memorized this brochure.  Can we go up?  Puh-lease?"

"Well, okay.  Get in line behind those three dozen Japanese schoolchildren and try to control your excitement.  You are an unofficial ambassador of the United States while you are in Japan.  One of those elevators over there will take us up to the first platform."

"The kids sure look cute in their school uniforms."

"Yes, they do, but those girls are not children.  They are elevator operators."

"And they do a great job.  That was one smooth ri--Wow!  Tokyo sure is big.  It stretches all the way to the horizon in every direction.  Emily and I want to check out the view from the Special Observation Platform."

"Go ahead.  Aunt Suzi and I will stay here and play with this map display.  It's fun to see how the city has grown and changed from the Edo Era to the Meiji Era to today."

*****

"Suzi!  Come over here and check out this floor window.  Don't stand too close!"

"Why not?  That big Sumo guy just walked right across the floor window over there."

"Eek!  He's doing it again just to scare us."

"What a joker.  Ha, ha.  I sure could use a beer to calm my heart rate back down."

"Me, too.  Let's tour a beer museum after I use the restroom."

"I'm not a rocket scientist, but I am going to assume one of these two buttons makes the toilet flush."

"Yes, but which one?  And what happens if you push the wrong button?  We are 492 feet in the air."

"Gee, you really did memorize that broch--Ha!  I think I might have figured out what happens if you push the wrong button.  The sign over the sink says "This isn't good to drink.'"

"Well, I'm pretty thirsty but I think I'll hold out for a beer."

Next:  Yebisu Beer Museum

The Tokyo Marathon: June Version

We managed to reserve hotel rooms for only one night - the never-popular Tuesday - while James and Emily were here, so we had a lot of ground to cover in two days.  So many factors had to be considered: Kate was due to arrive Wednesday afternoon, Suzi had visited Tokyo in October 2007 so we wanted to add some new sights to the mix, and Matt had graduation rehearsals scheduled both days.  Major Broadway productions have been staged in less time than the Kinnick High School Commencement Ceremony . . .

So.  Meiji Shrine was our first stop.  We shooed the Texans toward the torii gate for the obligatory photograph, but Emily insisted on posing in the foreground.  The middle-aged sisters raised their eyebrows in unison and whispered, "She's quite smart."  This is an accolade they rarely confer on anyone not related to them by blood.

Good Lord, she even has him washing his hands!

Inside the shrine we happened upon a Shinto wedding, always a treat.  "Look!  She's marrying a foreigner.  She's wearing a hood to hide the horns all women are expected to reveal once they are married."

 
The Ancient Mariner wisely resisted the impulse to share his thoughts on this topic.

Emily wanted her picture taken with the shrine entrance in the background.  Everyone whipped out a camera. 

"Is that a Nikon, Birkenstock Lady?"

James takes his best shot

"Step aside and let the master show you how it's done."

Sumimasen, allow me to demonstrate the proper way to take a photograph.

After a quick dash through Harajuku followed by one of my infamous shortcuts down a labyrinth of narrow lanes and alleys leading to a dead end, we found our way back to the train station.  Mike went back to Yokosuka to chaperone Matt and the rest of us headed across town to Sensoji Temple and the Five-Story Pagoda in Asakusa.  James called Emily a brown-noser when she bought a change purse like mine in one of the little shops but she forgave him when he agreed to pose in the cartoon Mikoshi Parade.

Over our usual Teppanyaki dinner back at the hotel, we hammered out plans for the morrow and hammered down sake while Emily opted to sample shochu, which apparently has much in common with Kentucky moonshine.  After a couple of sips, she followed the waitress's recommendation and mixed the shochu with grapefruit juice.  That did not seem to do the trick so I guess I'll stick with sake and beer.  Good to know, right?

Pre-Shochu Portrait

Next:  Tokyo Tower and Yebisu Brewery

Gorging in Kamakura: Hydrangea and Waffles

No longer able to use graduation rehearsal as an excuse for not hanging out with his family, Matt had an idea.  "Hey!  Let's all climb into that rental van with Mom behind the wheel and head on over to Kamakura.  We can check out her waffle restaurant and, gosh, I haven't visited the Daibutsu or Hasedera since the last time we had company."

"What's a Die-boot-sue?" James wondered after inhaling a half dozen waffles in assorted flavors.

"A great big statue of Buddha," Matt explained in his new 'we're all high school graduates now' tone of voice.

"Is this it?"  asked James.  "It doesn't seem all that big to me."

"No, that's a monk begging for alms.  We need to take a short ride to Hase on an electric train to see the Daibutsu."

"There's seven of us but only six Pasmo cards.  We'll have to buy one paper ticket.  Let's give it to the last person who reached Japan."

"Um, you guys go on ahead.  I'll catch up with you," advised the jet-lagged sister ten minutes later as she rummaged through the contents of her purse in the Hase station.  She had to find that paper ticket to exit the station.

She found it!

Everyone who visits us gets dragged to Hase to see the Great Buddha statue.  This is the first time we've seen anyone trying to line up a "Kissing Buddha" photograph.  Seeing an old thing through new eyes is refreshing.

On to Hasedera!  That's another routine stop on our Kamakura tour.

You've all seen a zillion photographs of my favorite temple, Hasedera, but this is the first time we've managed to visit Hasedera in June when the famous hydrangea are in bloom.  We were there about a week before the flowers peaked and that is no cause for complaint.  We marched straight up the hill (almost literally, come to think of it) and were soon surrounded by every shade of blue, pink, and white hydrangea imaginable.  A week later temple visitors stood in line for up to an hour to partake of this remarkable experience.

Imagine how this hillside looked a week later!

Emily at Hasedera

We have the same picture of her in a field of Texas bluebonnets taken 26 years ago.

There are a half dozen or so hydrangea bushes in our yard in Norfolk. I wonder how they are faring in my absence. Can I squeeze in a hundred more when we move back to Virginia? Will the Ancient Mariner be feeling up to making a mountain out of a molehill?

Emily and the fashion plates

Next:  Tokyo with Aunt Suzi and the Texans

The Fog Lifts

Whoosh!  Is that the Summer of 2010 flashing by?

The Ancient Mariner was home long enough to see his youngest son graduate, turn 18, climb Mt. Fuji, and learn to ride a bike. Now he is back on the Seven Seas, scanning the horizon for a tiny island that Dr. T and I have as yet been unable to locate in an atlas.

James and Emily took to Japan like armadillos to Texas asphalt. We ate our way up, down, and across the Miura Peninsula while Matt endured umpteen graduation rehearsals. Between meals we checked out a few shrines, temples, and the Yebisu Brewery. (With two Japanese brewery tours under her belt, Suzi is already talking about making a third trip to Japan next spring so we can hit the Asahi headquarters in Tokyo and Sapporo in Hokkaido. We're such a cultured family.)

Speaking of Suzi, Matt's devoted aunt brought the Best Graduation Gift Ever from all the cousins, uncles, and aunts:  a scrapbook holding letters and photographs of two Flat Stanleys and their pal Flat Arthur cavorting with Matt's cousins, uncles, and aunts. We all had quite a chuckle seeing Flat Stanley riding with the Border Patrol in Arizona, visiting Grandpa's favorite watering hole in Michigan, bouncing on a trampoline with Will, being devoured by David and Erin's dog, and painting an appropriately pious expression on his face when Uncle Tom and Aunt Betsy took him to church in Miami.  (Clever families are so much more fun than cultured ones.  One assumes.)


While Emily, James, and Suzi were recovering from jet lag, Kate was on bridesmaid duty in New Hampshire. She got to Japan in time to see her little brother meander to the podium at the Yokosuka Arts Theatre to introduce his class salutatorians.

 The slightly biased family members (plus Emily, a refreshingly agreeable young lady) agreed that the introduction was delivered with more poise and better diction than any other address that evening.  You can trust us on this as we're a rather critical -- whoops, I mean discerning -- audience.

Next:  Family Day in Kamakura

Speechless in Japan

June has been a bipolarish, agony/ecstasy month that's left me speechless (almost) (so far).  I've been basking in the blinding glow of seeing my three children together for the first time in nearly two years, doubling over in laughter at their hilarious wit, and finding them a welcome diversion from the inane antics of an outgoing Navy base regime which is drifting uncomfortably close to Totalitarianism.

This past weekend a tragic car accident in the Pacific Northwest resulted in the death of a special friend, Bob Goodwin, and the hospitalization of dear Bridget, Christopher (7), and Paul (2).  They were looking forward to returning to Japan this summer.  Bob was going to be the Senior Medical Officer on the USS Blue Ridge and Bridget and the boys were going to drag me to the Anpanman Museum at regular intervals.  It was Christopher who introduced me to Anpanman three years ago.  Need I say more?

If there is such a thing as crippling empathy, I have it.  In spades.

Someday She'll Remember This Christmas and Laugh

A doctor looked at Katie's throat yesterday by snaking a tiny camera through her nose. I regret I was not there to capture that memory for her (and you). She's been sick since Christmas Eve. Between Matt's wisdom teeth extraction last Monday and Kate's strep throat, we've managed to enjoy Total Family Health for roughly five hours this holiday season. Unfortunately, this five hours fell between midnight on December 23 and dawn on December 24 so Matt and I were the only family members awake to appreciate it.

Not that I'm complaining. While the rest of the family has been concentrating on recuperating, training for the Tokyo Marathon, and dashing off college essays on the global impact of on-line gaming, I've been exploring the "next blog" feature in the upper left corner of this page. Blogspot recently enhanced this feature to connect me with people who share my interests.

So far I've checked out a dozen or so blogs. The results have left me as horrified as Scrooge after his encounter with the Ghost of Christmas Future. According to Blogspot, my kindred spirits are apparently either crusty, cranky, obnoxious know-it-alls (gulp) obsessed with arcane hobbies like collecting toy soldiers or else they have military ties, primarily in the submarine community. Mike, meanwhile, is associated with sensitive, artsy gardeners who dabble in poetry and nature photography. How fair is that? (That was a rhetorical question, Jimmy/Jimmie.)

I sense the seed of a New Year's resolution lodging in my soul, the sort intended to transform me into a kinder gentler person (or at least one perceived as such by the Blogspot search engine). Before I add water and fertilizer to that seed, I'd like to reach closure on my 2009 resolution by finishing two more nonfiction books before the stroke of midnight on December 31. My sensitive, artsy mate is helping me meet this challenge by snoring softly in the background while I read about how sugar and caffeine contribute to sleep deprivation which, in turn, makes Kathy a crusty, cranky, and obnoxious person.

Fiction is so much more satisfying than the truth.

Tick, Tock

My brother Jim turns 50 today. This boggles my mind.

Jim's the baby of the family, the youngest of six. The year he entered St. John's School as a first grader I made the leap across the central foyer to join my older brothers in the high school. This was the only year all of us attended the same school; Jerry left for the University of Dayton the following autumn.

Jimmy was incredibly precocious, of course, with five older siblings to teach him the ways of the world. Yet I still have not adjusted to the fact he has a driver's license let alone two teenage daughters. In deference to my nieces, I'm going to wait until Jimmy turns 60 before sharing some of my favorite stories.

The Locked Door Mystery

All those hours spent solving adventure computer games came in handy today.

I arrived at Yokohama City Hospital thirty minutes early for my first solo conversation lesson with Dr. T, expecting to loiter in the hospital lobby, reading my book and polishing my lesson plan which consisted of three questions scribbled on an index card.

The lobby was dark and devoid of humanity. The automatic doors were locked. The only thing I could decipher on the enormous sign blocking my path was a big red arrow pointing to . . . a window. Uh-oh. What would Nancy Drew do?

I retraced my steps to the train station turnstiles and spotted an exterior staircase which landed me on the ground between the hospital and the medical school building. I wanted to be in the latter. My eyes found the second floor walkway connecting the two buildings and I imagined the two pharmaceutical sentries sneaking furtive glances at me out the windows. I nonchalantly strolled over to the door under the medical school end of the walkway and ran into a metal rod suspended between two orange cones. Hmm. Moving in a clockwise direction, I worked my way around the building and eventually found an unlocked door right next to the elevator I needed to take to Dr. T's office. Case solved.

It's amazing how quickly two hours can evaporate when you're talking about your family. Today we covered Mike's life from ninth grade through last weekend, Katie's education and gift for composing haiku, my hopes for James, Matt's conversation with Laura Bush, and the final two years of my father's-in-law life. (I agonized over that apostrophe.)

When I asked Dr. T about his childhood, he whipped out a map of Japan. We pondered that map at some length and, since I was still in Nancy Drew mode, it took me just a few minutes to deduce that it was upside down. I suspect Dr. T did that on purpose to trick me. If so, we're going to get along famously which is a good thing because I have dozens more family members to discuss with him.

And that bakery where I turn left when I exit the Kanazawa-Hakkei station? Definitely the most extensive selection I have seen yet.

Chasing the Sun

We are thankful David and Erin gave us a reason to visit Michigan in October when the autumn foliage was positively glorious. I am also thankful Matt and Kate didn't see the man who pulled over on I-94 to skin a deer . . .

Our return trip to Japan was a surreal experience from beginning to end. My old friend Elaine and her husband, Larry, were on our flight from Detroit to Chicago; the man sitting in front of us out of Chicago made three calls on his cell phone after the captain advised us to turn off our phones (a "teachable moment" as in "Matt, wheedling in a needy, self-deprecating tone of voice is not the best way to ask a girl for a date"); and the local time was always somewhere between 11:00 am and 2:00 pm for 12 straight hours. We have now mastered the bureaucratic intricacies of the free shuttle bus service between the base and Narita airport which is a great way to travel if you don't mind twiddling your thumbs in an airport for three hours after a 12-hour flight.

Today Matt is catching up on schoolwork and gearing up for his last football game. I spent two hours this morning deciphering a cryptic calendar entry - 12:30 Diana - and am off to meet my old friend Diana at the Kanazawa Hakkei train station. She will escort me to a hospital in Yokohama where she will introduce me to a doctor who wants to practice his English by chatting with me for a couple of hours every week. This job would suit me as well as my brother Jerry's post-retirement job at the driving range if I could just figure out how to talk and read at the same time.


I estimate it will take me about six hours to relate the highpoints of David and Erin's wedding weekend to this doctor, so the first three sessions will be a breeze. After that, he can carry the conversational ball while I glance surreptiously at my Kindle.