Virtual Beer on Father’s Day

The Rising Daughters blog often honors the women in my life because...they surround me. However, it occurred to me this past week it was nigh time to send out some public love and thanks to my Dad.  As the still-incredulous leader of my own clan, I’ve learned that being a father is a lifelong job, yet it isn’t on anyone’s resume. Do I think dads are unsung heroes? Sometimes.

Moms seem to get better PR.  Sure, they handle the lioness’s share of the myriad responsibilities of raising kids. Still, dads tend to bring home at least half the bacon, teach practical life skills, offer an occasional boot in the ass complemented with “advice”, and generally try and guide their kids they best way they can to make their lives the best it can be.  That was my experience with my Dad.

So this week, I was mulling how I could bridge the distance to deliver a manly thanks from over 10,000 km away. Eureka: a virtual beer with my dad.

Skype is godsend for families living in different parts of the planet. For Father’s Day, I arranged a virtual beer with my Dad. And it was good, although I had to settle for sipping namby-pamby non-alcoholic beer because it was 0730 here when we spoke. My brother Steve-o joined in, and we had a males-only bonding session. It was, to quote Steve, “sweet.”

What did we talk about? Nothing specific. It was just having a beer and talking shit, which in of itself is quite fulfilling. You don’t need to speak much to say a lot.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Ya done -- and are doing -- good!

Happy Birthday to my Mom

Say it loud, say it proud: Happy birthday. We love you!
And now an excerpt from our sponsor:
(Think of a certain song by the Beatles)

…Dad is quite handy mending a fuse
When your lights have gone.
You can sand a desk by the fireside
Sunday mornings sleep in ‘till nine.

Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When you’re 39-no-more?

Every winter you should rent a cottage
In a warm place, if it's not too dear
You have scrimped and saved
Grandchildren on your knee
E., M., and 'no-way!'

Doo-de-doo…happy birthday.

Convenience Store Supernatural Marketing Ploy

Day Two. Up early again and eager to go do stuff. Somehow, the combination of Marina screaming about something while still in her sleeping bag, and Elena being obstinate during breakfast, made us parental units lose it. This was long before 0600, folks. So I reckoned it was best to go spelunking again with the Rising Daughters to physically and mentally cool down.  Ladies E & M took my scolding in stride, then took in the smells and the sounds of the ocean. I am a sucker for salt air, and my irritation melted away in the warm breeze.

We proceeded to spend the day at the Izu Animal Kingdom, a thoroughly likeable “walking safari” experience, paired with a petting zoo that drew in Elena like a bee to a sunflower. It was a thoroughly memory-free experience for me, though. So many monkeys begging us for food seems to have imparted a frontal lobotomy effect on me; I have but two residual images of the entire wacky day:

1. Marina feeding endless carrot sticks to the giraffes, whose tongues…well, let’s just say I know where Gene Simmons got some of his ideas.

2. The choo-choo train ride between the safari and mini golf areas had a series of alluring naked woman statues lining the road. Wazzat? I couldn’t quite wrap my head around this spectacle in a “family zone” but I guess the sea of smut that is available to any kid with Internet access renders my thinking charmingly pre-digital age. Ja?

Driving back to the campground, we noticed several of the roadside convenience stores were bereft of their usual eye-catching colors.Whaa? No pretty colors to draw me in to buy your wares? 

This was offensive somehow…a kind of anti-marketing campaign?

These white/black only convenience stores along on Route 135 toward Shimoda became the subject of my curiosity. 

This means I droned to my poor, long-suffering wife about my many theories as to why major convenience store chains were doing this . Ultimately, I boiled it down to three sinister sources:

1. Some passive-aggressive marketing exec's expression of the yin-yang nature of his/her existence? Or perhaps the duality of man?

2. An ironic way of quietly showcasing Shimoda as the site of a historic trade deal in 1854 that pried open Japan from its closed door policy to trade with the revered/dreaded gaijins. Shimoda was where Adm. William Perry landed with the much-feared “black ships” for the second time to open some Japanese ports to foreign (read: US) trade and end its 200+ years of enforced seclusion. In other words, screw you, round-eyed dogs, don’t localize your penchant for bland and boring convenience here in old Nippon.

Or

3. Satan decided to take control and manage a few of these localized little gold mines that suck the marrow from your soul as quickly as it sucks the money from your wallet. The Angel of Darkness, too, knows that it’s all about location, location, location.

I just had to know the reason. So I asked a hapless and slightly befuddled clerk why the store signs were just black and white? Alas, like Adolph Eichmann, it was not about the banality of evil but rather a slightly inept way of trying to preserve the coastal road’s beauty by keeping the storefronts unobtrusive to the eye--the idea being that the bright colors detract from the natural adorableness of the landscape.

I still think it is some kind of supernatural marketing ploy. But thinking about it kept me awake on the long drive home. Thus, we arrived home safe and sound.

Camping: There is no substitute

Camping is good for the soul. It’s also good for the wallet. Both of these adages were soaring through my head as we drove out of cloistered Yokohama at 0530 – that’s no typo, 0530! -- in the morning on the first day of the Golden Week holiday. We’ve found the only surefire way to escape the predictable traffic jams that signal a long holiday is to just simply outwork the competition. So, our holiday began with a crazy-early drive toward the Izu Peninsula. It worked: scored a smooth exit from the city and down the coast.

To relax as we journeyed toward our destination we had to quell the mutiny in the backseat. Quarrels between the sisters abound in the confined space of the rear seats. We endured their conversations, spiked with kiddie expletives, and drowned out the racket with music. As we drove on, I heard only a few “I’m bored” quips and “how much longer” queries, which we studiously avoided answering, lest it generate even more. I was inspired to keep going by Van Morrison as we cruised down the coastal highway.

First stop: Izu Guranparu Park. This is an amusement park-cum-commando course and restaurant complex. We avoided the rides for the most part, but the girls, with their pent-up energy from the hours-long car ride, attacked the wooden beams, obstacles, and Tarzan rope swing with the gusto of Navy SEAL trainees. Marina was undaunted, clearly wanting to keep up with her older sister, while I ran shotgun to make sure she did not dent her head or otherwise do any permanent damage. 

Blood oxygen levels replenished, we proceeded further down the coastal highway, passing several hot spring resorts that were clearly not within our budget. Hence the camping.

Next up was the Atagawa Tropical and Alligator Garden. It was a fascinating pairing of Japan’s largest collection of alligators from around the world and tropical fauna.

Odd combination. There are three separate areas, one filled with pens containing the mostly-immobile alligators. The other two areas had some other creatures, and many hothouses with various flora and fauna, all kept warm by steam created by natural volcanic gases. We boarded the shuttle bus and visited all three areas, determined to get our money’s worth. It was a pleasant afternoon. The girls pestered us for treats and Elena would sometimes get exasperated and stomp off, but overall it was fun. Good spirits prevailed.

The nightcap: tent up, fireworks that dazzled the eyes. Elena is a pyro, just like her dad.

So, what are attractions of camping for the Rising Family? 
- Modern camping is comfortable and relatively inexpensive
- We’re low-maintenance: the camping part is just sleeping and fireworks
- My family is 75% chicks: clean toilets and bathing facilities are the only prerequisite
- We rarely cook or BBQ. Easier and cheaper to eat out. 
- Oh yeah: easy way to reconnect with nature without too much planning

 - I get to spend time with the girls without competing against friends or booping electronics
- We can go exploring (in this case, along the beach)
- I get to scare them at night with my flashlight pointed at my flaring nostrils together with my corney Darth Vader voice
- We wash off the day’s dirt at cheapo hot spring baths

Mt. Fuji Motivation

Mt. Fuji is the national symbol of Japan. Its near-perfect symmetry, size and visibility for tens of millions of people in the Tokyo area have turned this still-active volcano into a national icon. It’s the tallest mountain in Japan (3,776 m/12, 289 ft.), is considered a holy site by followers of the Shinto religion, and draws untold thousands of hikers every year to ascend her sides to the top. In short, Fuji-san inspires superlatives like no other mountain in Japan.

For my part, Fuji-san inspires many trips to the men’s room.

You see, like hundreds of millions of other officer workers around the world I fuel my work with regular cups of coffee (coupled with Red Bull or lesser-caffeinated beverages when I want to push the typing envelope). The morning fuel-up is inevitably followed by nature’s call to jettison some ballast, thereafter necessitating regular pit stops at the men’s room in my workplace. That’s the brilliance of the architect of the building: I have an unfettered view of Fuji-san from the entrance to the men’s restroom. That is a perk I share with only a few other hundred thousand or so workers in Japan’s capital region.

The View - the ideal

 Does the panorama of Fuji-san lower perceived stress levels or produce higher degrees of job satisfaction? Unknown.

But I do know that the view beats that of any other workplace I’ve been in. In fact, I find the occasional glimpses of Fuji-san inspiring. However, I did get a few snickers from a couple of co-workers who inquired as to why I was taking photos near the men’s john. The things I do for my art!

The View – the reality without zoom…but still quite nice

A Fistful of Firsts

Personal Mobility
Recently, Lady E. decided that her bicycle’s training wheels weren’t cool and they had to go. Maybe this was due to peer pressure, I dunno. Prior the onset of winter I’d been irregularly trying to get her upright and stable without trainers, all to no avail. All of a sudden getting rid of the training wheels became a priority for her.
She has made great progress of late and is now pedaling without mishap. This leaves me pleased for her and Naomi slightly freaked because she senses our eldest will soon be zipping along the same streets shared with cars.
I think Elena will soon feel the need for speed. Which means I need “to seek the safety.”

“It’s educational” (See The Pixies, U-Mass )
In a truly important major life milestone, Lady E. has joined the ranks of elementary school kids. Like millions of kids her age across Japan, in early April she began attending a local school. The first day kicked off with a school entrance ceremony, the first class with her teacher, and all her school things crammed into her “randoseru” backpack. It was nice to see her off on this next stage in life. Marina joined the party.

Personal Growth
Other recent major firsts include Elena’s passing down her car seat to M., who ditched her baby seat. Lady E. also lost her first tooth about two months ago. Think she was concerned about the first time she lost a part of her body involving pain and blood? Pssssshaw. She is currently prying out other teeth to get some more of those 500 yen coins that magically appear after a tooth comes out. Yes, the tooth fairy makes stops in Japan when duty calls.

Show Biz
During a lull in bicycle training at a park, we sat down for some drinks. I cajoled the girls into doing some faux commercials for the beverage, saying “I like it.” My plan is to get them into show biz as soon as possible so I can retire early and become a despicable showbiz daddy.
It’s also my way of wedging in some English practice for the Rising Daughters, whose dominant language right now is Japanese.  See their very brief performances below.

The Grinch Who is Hostile to Hanami

Watching petals fall from blooming cherry trees
is what in Japan they call Ha-na-mi
In practice this means drink lots, feast, and appear to think deep thoughts
perched under a tree on a blue plastic sheet
…to fill spring’s start with glee.

‘Tis that season once again—

spring’s blossoms that signify a fresh start and hope
But out there are contrarians; do they covet tumbling cherry blossoms…nope!

Yet many in ‘ol Nippon they like hanami a lot

and it takes more than liquid courage to say you do not.

But who really gives a hoot about a bunch of pink blossoms on trees?

That fall to ground, that’s it, what does it all mean?

A metaphor for the fleeting nature of life…not so much
thought the Grinch hostile to hanami
(but said with a gentle, contrite, soft spoken touch.)
“Cherry and plum trees, their blossoms do scatter,
but come on, in the end, what does it all really matter?”


Courtesy of the WSJ

The Grinch who is hostile to hanami

could there be a person who does not like this season!
Please don't ask why he is so hostile to it
I do not know the reason.

Some think the most likely reason of all

may have been that his heart was broken under hanami’s thrall.

Some think that the hanami feasts that occur under the trees

--these parties with friends, co-workers and families--
are not to his liking, no, not to his taste.
And perhaps he thinks this time spent is a waste.

Still others feel that his mind is too shallow

to embrace the depth of ephemeral beauty found in falling petals
Mayhap that’s it! He is simply too callow!

But, whatever the reason, his head or his heart,

that Grinch, he is steadfast, in the disdain he feels for hanami
when the fun and the frolicking force him to depart.

Yet the time is upon us, so please nobody sneer

for hanami time is practically here.
I know the answer: someone hand the Grinch a beer.