The Arts of the People

Matt and I went to the football banquet at the Officers' Club last night. He picked up another varsity pin and we feasted on fried chicken, baked beans, and corn on the cob. I am so proud of Matt for sticking it out this season.

Today the Explorers went up to Tokyo to investigate the Japan Folk Crafts Museum, the Nihon Mingeikan, which was featuring a special exhibit in honor of the 120th anniversary of the birth of Soetsu Yanagi, the museum's founder. We were not allowed to take photographs inside the museum so you will just have to come see it for yourself.

Yanagi designed the building himself. It is lovely and surprisingly modern for a museum that opened in 1936. The woodwork and use of natural light reminded me of of the American Arts and Crafts Movement that reached its zenith around the same time interest in Mingei was gaining momentum in Japan.

Across the street from the main museum building is a nagayamon (long gate house, left) built in the 19th century in Tochigi Prefecture. This house is attached to Yanagi's family residence; they are only open on the second and third Wednesday and Saturday of every month so we will have to make another trip when the next exhibit is in place.

Since we cannot fit the furniture we currently own into our Norfolk house, I am doing my best to avert my gaze whenever a chest or table whispers my name. Yard art, however, is an entirely different story. And a couple of the display cases featured book bindings Yanagi collected. Picture me in my twilight years, carefully pasting linen covers on all my favorite books. I'll do this outside in good weather so I can admire my yard art.

VICTORY IN JAPAN, 2009 Version

VJ Day took on a whole new meaning for the Kinnick High Red Devils this evening when they bested Kubasaki High School from Okinawa in a 19-16 nailbiter.


















The diehard fans - that would be four mothers along with any father whose ship happens to be in port this weekend - inclined toward giddiness as the clock ticked down. Was it simply reluctance to separate themselves from the glow of their sons' first gridiron triumph which caused them to linger in the bleachers and admire the full moon's reflection in Tokyo Bay? Surely they were not trying to avoid all the traffic associated with the Navy Ball or wondering why the base scheduled that event during a Seventh Fleet deployment.

Yokota by Train

The night the Red Devils lost to Yokota (34-6) at Bonk Field will not soon be forgotten at our house, and not just because Matt finally realized his dream of playing on Yokota's home turf. Matt is going to remember the Yokota game as the last time he went anywhere without his house key.

Yokota Air Force Base is in Fussa, a Tokyo suburb two hours from Yokosuka no matter whether you travel by car or by train. With Dan Brown's new book loaded on my Kindle and a pair of knitting needles stashed in my bag, of course I opted for the form of transportation permitting me to feel optimally productive, ie, smug.

Coming home was another story, one that required changing trains five times instead of three and that consumed three and half hours instead of two. I left the game with four minutes left on the clock so I could be home in plenty of time to meet the team bus. Such was not to be.

Somewhere in the middle of Chapter 22, just one station southeast of Fussa, my fellow passengers all disembarked in a flurry. This is how gaijin like me realize the train we are on will not be proceeding in the direction we expected. I did what I usually do in these now familiar but still disconcerting moments: followed the passengers moving the fastest. Normally this group leads me to a connecting train but this time the race-walking crowd led me straight to the exit turnstiles. Whoops! Not to worry, I got a lot of reading done in the half hour before the next train arrived.

Later, just west of Yokohama and in the middle of an especially complicated paragraph in Chapter 38, I hopped on a train headed in the wrong direction. Whoops again.

When I dragged myself through Gridley Tunnel at 1:15 am, pondering the mystery of what so many Japanese people were doing riding around on trains in the wee hours, I found Matt curled up on the hood of the car. Just his luck to beat me home the first time it crossed my mind to lock the doors when I left the house.

Messages from Misawa

Sent: Fri Sep 04 19:45:01 2009
Subject: After 1 Quarter . . .
Edgren 19, Kinnick 0

Sent: Fri Sep 04 20:14:25 2009
Subject: Re: After 1 Half . . .
32 - 0 :-(

Sent: Fri Sep 04 20:57:15 2009
Subject: Re: After 3 Quarters . . .
45 - 0

Sent: Fri Sep 04 later
Subject: Re: Final Score
51 - 0
Matt played well on KO team.

(Editor's Note: There is always a silver lining. Pat Conroy managed to support his family for a few years by writing the book My Losing Season about his senior year on the Citadel basketball team.)

Spinmomster

The Red Devils took a beating at home tonight from archrival Yokota (aka Air Force Pukes). The final score was a disheartening 49-6. On the plus side, #88 was on the field for seven kick returns and the camera battery waited until half-time to sputter out.


Remember that new hobby I mentioned the other day? It's already done wonders for my popularity. The phone rang just as I was racing out the door to the game. "It's Mi-Mi. Do you have any ice? There's none on the base and the Oakleaf picnic is tomorrow!" The Navy Exchange has pulled all the ice from its shelves on account of some sort of infestation (I'm picturing lots of frozen cockroaches, yuck). It's so great to feel needed. Maybe I can parlay the ice into my passing dish . . .

An Encore for Piano Man

Matt snagged his old number, 88, when the jerseys were handed out yesterday. Practice this morning was a walkthrough - whatever the heck that is - and the season will kick off about 90 minutes from now when the Red Devils host Yokosuka Gakuin, a local school. It seems like they ought to practice another week or two before playing a game but you won't hear me complaining, especially if this means we can sleep in past 4:30 am tomorrow.

Mike, of course, is simply disconsolate about missing the season opener. "Step away from the railing, Sir!"

Fortunately he left the good camera in the closet when he deployed so I'll be looping about 75 pounds of Nikon stuff around my neck and masquerading as a Stars and Stripes photographer in hopes of landing a spot on the sidelines. Otherwise I might have to meet some of the other parents and sign up for a shift in the concession stand.

Matt informs me he does not wish to be called PDE. I think he prefers Chip after researching Clair Bee and Chip Hilton on Wikipedia. We both giggled when we read this line in the general plot synopsis: A slow start to the season is generally followed by Chip interceding with the coach on behalf of his mates, a coaching epiphany, and the coach deciding it is best to see things Chip's way while deriding himself as a fool for trying to change the team's style. "Now there's a technique you should try with Coach Wilson!" Not.

P.S. I finished Of Mice and Men last night. I suspect this comes as a relief to all of us.

An Athletic Interlude

This statue (left) marks the site of the first bowling alley in Japan which opened in 1864 at the foot of French Hill in Yokohama. I took this picture for my brother-in-law, a serious bowler in his youth (no kidding, the wedding reception took place in a bowling alley). I also took this picture because French Hill is really, really steep and loitering at this statue allowed me to postpone my ascent.

While verifying that this statue does, indeed, mark the site of the first bowling alley in Japan, I learned a couple of other interesting things. Bowling is pronounced "boring" in Japan but they've invented some derivative forms of the sport that are anything but boring. Head bowling, for instance. Or how about breast bowling? I will spare you the video links in case the kids are reading.

Speaking of kids, the football coaches decided to start practice at 5:30 am after the military police halted practice on account of black flag weather two days in a row last week. Friday was rough but Matt was in the groove by 4:30 am Saturday and borderline chipper at 4:30 am today. I don't think he's been up this early (unless he stayed up all night) since his infancy and the same can certainly be said about me.

I'm thinking, what with global warming and all, it might be time to think about pushing the football season back by 4-6 weeks. But I'll wait until Matt graduates before I start/join this crusade. There's no sense embarrassing him on purpose when I do it so well without trying, and sometimes without even opening my mouth.

South Bend Meets Tokyo

This is what Japan has to say about the upcoming contest between Notre Dame Football Legends and the Japan National Team:
The Notre Dame Japan Bowl 2009 is the biggest American Football event to take place in Japan. Never have such big names come to Japan to play against the Japanese national team for the purpose of American Football Globalization. Japan is the perfect place to start a global American Football movement and that is why Notre Dame Legends such as Lou Holtz and Tim Brown are coming to the Land of the Rising Sun to celebrate their 75th anniversary. The Notre Dame Japan Bowl will pit a Notre Dame team full of ex-NFL players as well as former All-Americans, against a Japanese National Team who took the U.S.A national team down to the wire in the American Football World Cup 2007.

Here's the kicker, unlike any other exhibition here in Tokyo, this will be a matchup full of global implications. Now that Japan has proven that they can play with the big boys, Notre Dame Legends will not be pulling any punches. This is the kind of gridiron battle that Japan has been lacking and this may be the epic battle to solidify Japan as an Elite American Football Country. Will Notre Dame put an over-achieving Japanese Team back in their place? Or will Japan prove all the naysayers wrong and force America to bring over an even tougher team?

You can be darn sure I'll be scanning the Tokyo Dome grounds for UND cell phone charms.