A Trip to Rootstown, Ohio

The sound of heavy rain has arrived.  We wondered if it was lightening ahead of us on the horizon as we headed down I-71 towards Cincinnati, a late night return from Rootstown, Ohio where my brother will be attending medical school in less than a month.  On the way up my mother and I shared the confined space of a car and made sense of our existence as two people do who share half their genes and thirty years of familiarity.  Comparing our commonalities, using our individual lives to shed light on ideas of being human in this world.  

When we arrived and met my brothers who had driven up earlier, the apartment was still unready after already a week of delay.  We had come to Rootstown, it seemed, to have an opportunity to stop in Dover, Ohio to see my great-grandfather's self made house (still there) and enjoy the local Cracker Barrel, where we sat in the outdoor rocking chairs reading the local paper, playing checkers, and me eating soba and seaweed brought along as a packed lunch (of course after an appetizer of grits and eggs over easy). (Photo credit to my mother)

Lettin' the time pass.  A good thing to do in Ohio country.  Watching the clouds and the wind pull in the rain and let it go.  The apartment was ready and we moved in boxes and bags in the spotty rain, holding doors and having them held for us by the red-eyed workers slowly bringing the building to fruition.  I got to see the apartment and beautiful school building and feel really excited for my brother and his coming year.

On the way home my mother and I listened to Puccini and Leon Redbone and the Beatles, releasing some of the tiredness of the day even as it kept accruing by the time and the travel.  We watched the mist on the corn and soybean fields, and the lightening over the horizon, pulling us closer to Cincinnati, to the beautiful sound of a heavy rain.

Okonomiyaki Party in America

Tonight I brought okonomiyaki to my parents' home for one of our family get-togethers.  It was a little different with All-Purpose Pillsbury Flour, smaller sizes, do-it-yourself dressings, and an electric stove top, but America enjoyed it. We also had the stand-by cold cuts for those not ready for the plunge, but it turned out they were not necessary.  Everyone was a fan of the okonomiyaki as well as the various mochi and other Japanese treats that we featured this evening.  It's hard to go wrong with Japanese deliciousness.

turkey slices, vegetable plate, dill pickles, and okonomiyaki

Jet Lag

I'm in jet lag denial.  I have not slept since I got up this morning,  not had caffeine.  It's 9:22PM and I will make it 9:30PM on the magical powers of Quaker Oatmeal Squares and peanut butter toast alone, which I'm enjoying quite liberally here.  Bike ride with Ben this morning, checking out a wedding site with David and Eun Jung and the family this afternoon. Spending time with family and more tomorrow.

I will not retype this last sentence.  I will not backspace.  Only going forward from here....to bed.

Back in Cincinnati

I'm home in Cincinnati, in my room.  I can hear my parents voices across the hall, lying in bed, discussing plans for the coming weeks that I'm here.  There is a picture of me with Santa on the book shelf and another on the dresser.   Pictures of my brothers, things from me that were never moved, things brought into this space by others.  Amazing the sculpting of time and absence on a space and in the mind.  Returning to Cincinnati after a year away in Japan.  A new casino downtown, a new hotel, and hospital, the credit union is now a pizza restaurant.  My family is still here.  

A return to a familiar comfort, knowing that I belong to all the people around me.  To wave at people on the street,  to say good morning, to smile in an ease I've yet to fully embody in Japan.  This is my home.  People of many races walking together, voices of many tones, some agressive, some melancholy, some sarcastic, incredulous, joyful, exhausted, impatient, grateful.  How many wear accents as they speak my native tongue, trying to find a comfort here just as I try to find it in another place?  So many different voices.  So many different people.

Is it because I am from this place that I feel this ease?  I can ask for something at the pharmacy, I can make a hotel booking, or inquire about a one-day pass at the pool.  I can say hello without the twinge of anticipation that I will have to say more.  

And at the same time, I miss Japan.  As I was leaving it I missed it already, watching a baseball game in the airport, lifting my feet for the gentleman fastidiously vacuuming the airport lounge, eating my homemade food next to others doing the same, deciphering a new word, watching mothers coddle their abnormally adorable children.   It's a funny feeling to both miss the place from which you leave and look forward to the place to which you are going.  Where is satisfaction?  What to choose if there is no better option?  

But family is irreplaceable and it is such a wonderful, wonderful feeling to be enjoying this familiarity for the time, as much as I enjoy the novelty and growth which Japan has come to represent.  I feel that I'm learning more about both of these worlds during my first few hours and day here.  How different the feeling of being able to offer myself, to connect with the world when living in this familiarity.  And to strive to remember this for others, as we all try to find this comfort in this world.  

Goodbye

A final farewell.  So many people are leaving this year.  Reflecting on each person's unique energy and what they bring to our community, what they bring to whatever world they touch, how they change it.  Living here is not just living in Japan, it's living in a very small community of people.  And learning from this has probably been as much a part of my growth this year as the language and customs of this new country.  Each person carries so much with them and it is impossible to hide from it, to be blind to it.  Life is hard.  Life is beautiful.  We all carry it with us.  It hurts us, we suffer from ourselves and others, and we find ways to laugh and smile within it.  What a strange dance.  We are only here for such a short time.

Final Concert at HPAC

The final day of HPAC.  A concert of Italian cuisine, arias, and a classically absconded J-pop. 40 seconds into sizzling steaks, we started the William Tell Overture; the soprano singing Violetta's arias told the host that she liked pizza and pasta, and of course wine, before delivering her performance;  the fork as a modern eating utensil was thoroughly examined.  

It was a surreal afternoon.  A sudden and strange farewell to the space shared by so many people who have been with us this past year and the years before I existed in Japan.  Amazing that we have arrived at this point in time.  

Delicious Daily Gifts

Japan is a steady stream of gift sweets.  Two days ago I went for a bow rehair and left with three small rabbit shaped cakes from a nearby prefecture as a gift from the shop owner.  Yesterday was a lesson with Fukunari-sensei and it goes without saying that there would be a fine sweet, this time of a kinako variety.  Today the librarian walked briskly up to me, arm outstretched offering a frozen cheese cake delight.  All are beautifully and individually wrapped and shrouded in Japanese ritualistic mystery.

I go to America in a few days and would love to acquire some gift response to quickly remove the gifted onus, but there's nothing like it.  A handful of Reese's?  While few would say no, it doesn't quite have the same appeal.  Beef jerky?   I suppose I will just have to bear the burden of daily acquiring more delicious gift karma.  What will it be tomorrow?  From where will it come?