Ringing in the New Year with Mrs. Doofus

The Ancient Mariner rarely stays up past midnight on New Year's Eve, at least since we tied the knot almost twenty years ago.  A rare exception was when we huddled next to a sheltering dumpster behind Portsmouth Naval Medical Center to see the Norfolk New Millenium fireworks on December 31, 1999 - a year ahead of the actual New Millenium, mind you.  The Ancient Mariner went all out that year to "make a memory" for a boy who recently told us he does not remember the fireworks, the dumpster, the arctic winds gusting down the Elizabeth River, or anything else about that New Year's Eve.

We are running short on time to make memories for Matt.  That was the most convincing argument I could dream up to drag my Ancient Mariner out in the elements in the waning minutes of 2010.  This was our fourth New Year's Eve in Japan and we had not yet warmed our hands at a bonfire outside a shrine or watched people swing those huge logs to make the enormous bells clang across the countryside.  Shame on us.

 

Shortly after eleven we slipped away from our neighbor's party and bundled up for the elements.  Matt's father wore the Hogwarts' aviator cap Matt had given him for Christmas.

As you might surmise, Matt's mother was relieved when they didn't run into anyone they know on their trek down Blue Street and up a hill through a residential area to their destination.

Anpanman Stocking Cap

"Are you sure you know where you're going?"

"Oh ye of little faith! Cathy, Amy, and I found this place when we were wandering around Yokosuka the January they visited us."

Turning a corner, we spotted the wide flight of stone steps and trudged up to the plaza in front of the Japanese church. Bright light blazed out of the open church doors, illuminating two men standing behind a card table set up on the plaza about twenty yards from where we stood ("frozen in our tracks" springs to mind).

"Where's the bonfire?" one of us asked/whined through chattering teeth. "For that matter, where's the bell?"

"Um, Mom, this is a Buddhist temple. The bell-ringing stuff takes place at Shinto shrines."

Silly me.

This might come as a surprise to you, but we are at heart an extremely polite family. There was no way we were going to turn tail once those two men spotted us. We approached the table and were handed New Year gifts that made us smile, toothbrushes in Year of the Rabbit wrappers. A quick round of Charades led us to understand we were supposed to leave our shoes on the plaza and enter the temple. A second quick round of Charades with two middle-aged ladies inside the temple led us to understand we were to choose between hot bottled beverages - coffee or tea - and then take a seat on one of the two dozen stools lined up facing the altar.

Most congregations to which I've belonged over the years could learn something about hospitality from the Buddhists.

It was 11:30 pm at this point. No one else showed up until about ten minutes before midnight. We amused ourselves by watching a monk light the candles on the main altar and the smaller altar to our right. We noticed a tabernacle-like structure draped with orange brocade fabric behind the main altar. "This reminds us of a Catholic church," two of us told each other while the former seminarian put his head in his hands and sighed loudly.  Religious services are always more fun when I'm with at least one of my children.

About eight of the stools, including our three, were occupied when the head priest arrived. He was robed in orange and purple and wore a hat bordering on papal. The assistant monk commenced to bang the drum slowly several hundred times. The head priest climbed up to the tabernacle and lifted the drape to reveal a small statue of Buddha. The assistant monk continued to bang the drum while chanting in harmony with the head priest. Meanwhile, people wandered in and out of the temple, mostly keeping to the foyer area just behind us where they tossed coins into the big wooden coin box, said a quick prayer, and accepted a cup of sake from the middle-aged ladies.

"That's what we should have done," one of us remarked. The others were agreeing to slip out quietly just when the head priest climbed back up to the tabernacle and covered the statue of Buddha. "This smacks of a solemn moment. We can't leave now." So we stayed put to discover that Buddhist priests deliver their homilies, and rather lengthy ones at that, at the conclusion of the service.

We tossed some coins in the big wooden box and prayed for you before exiting the temple. "Those were the three most expensive toothbrushes I've ever bought," someone noted.

On our way home we glanced down an alley and - snicker - spotted a shrine complete with bonfire and bellringers. (There is a much clearer picture but I find I am increasingly fond of blurred images when my face is involved.)

The kid can't say we didn't treat him to a memorable New Year's Eve this time.