Going Inkless

Magic is what you make of it.  Superstitions only count if you believe in them.  The omens you notice and their interpretations are mostly a way of talking to yourself.  So I do not view Friday the thirteenth with trepidation.  Thirteen is not an unlucky number for me.  It's just a step beyond twelve.  I recognize that in the the language of symbols, that puts it beyond the totality of things, so in that sense, "supernatural," but that doesn't make it bad.  In a way, it's like going beyond the door, like breaking into a new adventure. This past Friday the thirteenth, I arrived at work as normal, started my computer and made myself a cup of tea.  The day before, we had celebrated National Library Week with Chinese food for lunch, and there was a bowl of leftover fortune cookies in the lounge.  I pocketed one to take back to my desk and enjoy with my Earl Grey.  Not long after I started into building a supply order, my cell phone started...

After the last post, it might be nice to enjoy something a bit lighter and more upbeat:      Birthdays are a big deal in some cultures.  Particularly here in America, we take the anniversary of our first day as a cause to celebrate.  It's the one day when you are special for no other reason than for being you and surviving another year.  For many, being the birthday boy or girl meant you ruled the day.  People gave you things, sang your name, made merry in your honour, and told you that all your wishes should come true.  American parents often go to great lengths to plan the perfect birthday parties for their children.      In my family, birthdays were comparatively low key.  When your family is large and doesn't have much money, the idea of hosting a half dozen school friends for a traditional birthday party isn't very practical, and going out to a professional venue of some sort is certainly impossible.  So, we didn'...

     In the staff lounge on Thursday, I ate my lunch quickly, scanning my smart phone and reading articles I don't remember.  When I had done with that, I looked at the clock.  With some 20 minutes of break time left, I considered returning to my desk early.  While I usually take a walk, I just didn't feel up to it, and I only wanted to get back to my work and finish out the day.  Such "dedication" is frowned upon for non-exempt employees, so after a bit of waffling, I put on my jacket and headed out after all.  A few steps out, the urge to keep walking took over.  Suddenly, I wanted to go as far and as fast as my feet would carry me, to walk until I couldn't anymore - to nowhere in particular.  A few steps more, and I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks.  The transformation was abrupt and unexpected.      That morning, my daughter's dog Freya had gone on her last trip to the vet.  She had been ...

Day 7 We had a good long sleep and awoke to birdsongs we don’t hear at home.  We asked what bird made such a sound and were told they were nightingales.  We ate a simple breakfast of fruit, yogurt and bread, but discovered that Okaasan had made the yogurt and one of the varieties of bread she offered.  I also learned that she had saved a coffee cup from my previous visit, when I was unable to pack the one I had decorated at a nearby pottery workshop.  She gave it to me to drink from on my first morning back. To begin our day, we took a walk through the neighborhood, taking pictures of flowers and scenery. Some buildings showed traditional methods of construction. Terraced rice fields had not yet been planted. Kodomo no hi, boy’s day, was approaching, so there were some carp flags flying. We visited the village shrine in peaceful dappled sunshine. Back at home, Takeru watered the flowers...

Day 5 We were up early and back to the trains on Thursday.  Once again, we traveled from Uguisudani to Ueno, but we arrived so early that we had some time to kill before we were supposed to meet my friend.  Luckily, the station has many interesting artworks and shops to browse. We watched as the morning crowd turned from a steady stream of businesspeople focused on their commute to those dressed more casually, coming in for personal errands or tourism.  When the throng had thinned and become less devoted to the quest of making it to work on time, my pen pal Harumi arrived with her husband. I didn’t know Harumi when I was in Japan the first time.  We connected as a result of an internet pen-pal program a little less than eight years ago.  After putting my ad on the website, I was contacted by her husband Huw, asking if I would consider a cassette-tape letter exchange.  Harumi has been blind since she was about 20, and enjoys correspon...