weight of history

April 29th, 1992.

April 30th, 1975.

April 29th and April 30th... most people will probably not give a lot of thought to what happened on these two days. But we should.

"What we do about history matters. The often repeated saying that those who forget the lessons of history are doomed to repeat them has a lot of truth in it. But what are 'the lessons of history'? The very attempt at definition furnishes ground for new conflicts. History is not a recipe book; past events are never replicated in the present in quite the same way. Historical events are infinitely variable and their interpretations are a constantly shifting process. There are no certainties to be found in the past...

We can learn from history how past generations thought and acted, how they responded to the demands of their time and how they solved their problems. We can learn by analogy, not by example, for our circumstances will always be different than theirs were. The main thing history can teach us is that human actions have consequences and that certain choices, once made, cannot be undone. They foreclose the possibility of making other choices and thus they determine future events..."

-Gerda Lerner
posted by G at 11:43 AM   | (0) comments

amagasaki accident pt.3

More news.

-Train Wreck Death Toll Surges to 106
-Passengers Say 'Late' Train Did Not Slow Before Sharp Curve

I've been getting a lot of e-mails from my friends and students in the area... thankfully, it looks like no one I know was hurt.
posted by G at 5:21 PM   | (0) comments

next year in Jerusalem... brotha sucka

I'm not Jewish neither in the sense of the ethnicity or the religion, but I recognize that much of ancient Christianity was birthed in ancient Jewish culture. By virtue of the Torah and the Bible, there are shared stories, such as the story of Passover.

So with great respect, I found this particular link to be hilarious. Passover, a robot, and 50 Cent make for a good laugh.

How come people don't make these things for Chinese New Year?
posted by G at 11:44 PM   | (3) comments

amagasaki accident, pt.2


(photo by Ko Sasaki)

According the latest news articles, the official death is now 91 and looks to rise to perhaps over 100.

On and off during the past couple of days, I've been thinking a lot about the accident, especially since I know that I used to ride that exact train line (running from my home in Kawanishi to Amagasaki) to make it in time to work. The last stop the train made before the accident was at Itami city, where roughly over a year ago, I began teaching at a kids school close to the JR Itami station - cute kids just like this.

Almost everyday, I would ride the kaisoku (rapid) train from my home station, standing in a crowded train car with music playing from my headphones. I can still hear the loud station announcements (only in Japanese) in my head.

Mamonaku, Itami... Itami desu. Itami no sugi wa, Amagasaki... Amagasaki desu...

I can recall exactly the speed of the train as it leaves JR Itami station and speeds toward Amagasaki. The feeling of the train rising and lurching on the tracks whenever it approaches the left hand turn that takes it into the JR Amagasaki station. I never felt in danger once while riding it.


.:.


The Daily Yomiuri and the NY Times have had good articles about the accident - the Times article is notable because it discusses that perhaps that the fault of the accident lies with a Japanese cultural obsession with being on time.

Yoshihiro Shimoura was a third year college student traveling on his way to Kinki University. Shigeru Kosugi was the head of Television Osaka's Tokyo branch who had returned with his wife to visit their home in Kawanishi. Kai Takezaki was a 31 year old woman on her way to her vocational school in Osaka to study pet care. They were all killed in the accident.

Part of me wants to rationalize away feelings I have... to dismiss these odd pangs of guilt. After all, human beings frequently ask themselves the question of why are some spared and why are some not. People will often just attribute survival to dumb luck and random chance. But the other part of me can't accept that and yet at the same time, there's almost a vague sense that if there's a reason that I'm alive, what is it? Or was it just not my time?

I'm no more deserving than they. I mourn and pray for the families who grieve.

Jesus' words from Luke 13:4-5 come to mind.


.:.


On a related note, I finally got around to watching 21 Grams last night for the first time and I was deeply moved by the movie. The story's pacing and the sequence of the scenes were well-done, and Sean Penn, Benicio Del Toro, and Naomi Watts gave brilliant performances.

In light of my thoughts about the Amagasaki Accident, the story was a lot more meaningful. The juxataposed stories of the lives of three different strangers shattered and blown apart like leaves by a single, tragic accident was a reminder that life really is fragile and that when when people have been afflicted by horrible circumstances, especially those beyond their control, they are left deeply wounded and scarred...
posted by G at 2:07 AM   | (1) comments

amagasaki accident

-Police Raid Train Operator; 73 Dead in Crash
-Train Derails on curve, killing dozens in Japan

The latest updates on the accident keeping getting worst... the death toll is now 73 and the Japanese police raided the offices of JR Nishi Nihon (Japan Rail West Japan, the company that owns the train line), to check for evidence of professional negligence. The president of the company will also be resigning to take responsibility for the disaster.

It looks like the current theory behind the crash is that train's young driver was speeding to make up for being behind schedule, and that perhaps, he hit something on the track / or there was something wrong with the track... the combination of these factors being that the train jumped the track and crashed into the building.

My mind has been thinking about the accident a lot today. I'll always remember riding trains in Japan in pictures I took, like during 2004 Easter weekend and Father's Day).





Given the number of trains running around Japan, I guess an accident is almost an inevitable statistical fact. And it could have been me on that train.

.:.


In happier news, I had saba shioyaki and tempura for dinner today at Arita in Greenwood. I had the biggest smile on my face while I was chowing down on it all... damn good.

In other interesting news, a UW grad recently made $600k in winnings from two European poker tournaments. Whoa.
posted by G at 11:22 PM   | (5) comments

thoughts of kansai

There was a terrible train accident today in Japan - a commuter train jumped the tracks and rammed into an apartment building. Initial reports say that 57 people were killed and over 400 people were injured. It's the worst accident in over 40 years.

I used to commute everday on that train line when I was in Japan.



As my crude drawing shows, Amagasaki, the place where the accident happened, is a pretty major hub for the trains that run between Kobe and Osaka. I hope everyone I know is alright.
posted by G at 1:55 PM   | (1) comments

family time



Since my uncle is visiting from Cali this weekend, I've been having lots of "family time". Yesterday, I drove my uncle up to Seattle to have brunch with my sister and Shiv at Atlas, one of my favorite restaurants in the U-District.

Afterwards, we all headed over to the Seattle Art Museum, the main attraction being a new photography / video exhibit from China called "Between Past and Future: New Photography & Video from China". I know my uncle likes to visit museums, but since he doesn't often go out by himself, I thought it'd be nice to take him to the SAM. The exhibits were very interesting, especially the photography... the subject matter seems to be highly focused on the current social & economic turmoil in China, with emphasis on how it effects people on an individual level. I wanted to buy some postcards of my favorite photos, but they didn't have the ones I wanted.

Some exhibits that stand out in my mind:

• A large spread of over 100 old B&W photo ID pictures stitched together form a large "quilt"
  
  
• A video showing random, quick interviews of different people - adults, children, elderly - all saying only one thing in Chinese and English: "I will die."
  
  
• A collage of B&W photos of urban landscapes with interspaced color photos of buildings with traditional Chinese architecture, cultural events, and people
  
  
• A sequence of photos starting from boots all the way to the face & hat of a young Chinese soldier in full dress uniform, standing guard at Tiananmen Square.
  
  
• A photo of convicts waiting in line for hot water, all with shaved heads and thermos
  
  
• A series of old family photos from the '60s / '70s juxtaposed against pictures of the same people as they are today, in the exact same poses and positions - with missing chairs and gaps for people have died

Yeah, the SAM... good stuff. Even though I've never visited mainland China, I can't help but still feel an urge to go and visit, at least to travel to all the touristy places to see things with my own eyes. Walking through the exhibit, I couldn't shake the feeling that something big is happening now, and that in my lifetime, I'll probably witness the rise of China as a world power again, not just as an economic powerhouse, but as a major center of culture. Interesting.


.:.


Today was pretty laidback day... me, my uncle, Mom and Shiv met with my cousin's family and their cute baby for Shanghai-style dim sum at a restaurant close to Factoria mall. Apparently, they serve dimsum all the time and it's served made to order, instead of grabbing it off a cart like other dim sum joints. We tried lots of different dishes, but my favorites were the scallion pancake, beef pastry and the special "juicy" dumplings - both the steamed and deepfried kind that have meat & juice in them.

Mmm, dumplings.

Anyway, like most Chinese family get-togethers over a meal, there was the usual storytelling about old times along with people speculating events coming up like cousin Hillary's wedding... just two more months.

Did I mention my cousin's kid is cute? He's growing up fast.
posted by G at 3:39 PM   | (2) comments

hanging out with unk

So my uncle is in town and I've been showing him around. What's kind of funny is that he's been to Seattle plenty of times before, so he's pretty content to just go out to eat at places with good food and watch DVDs. Being equally low-maintenance sorta guys, I guess that's what we'd consider a vacation.

Tomorrow, we'll hopefully hit the SAM.


.:.


china-japan relations

The Washington Post had a recent article about a large group of Japanese lawmakers purposely visiting Yasukuni Shrine... talk about antagonism. It's like the US Government throwing a party at Wounded Knee or having marathon along the Trail of Tears to celebrate National American Indian Heritage Month.

Ridiculimafication.
posted by G at 10:17 PM   | (3) comments

lazy days



I cooked dinner yesterday night for Shiv and it was good... there's always fun in preparing food you're going to eat yourself, as if personal involvement added some sort of magic to how it tastes. If I had the time, money, and motivation, I think it'd probably cook for more often, even if it was only for myself.

The productiveness of today was not so high, but I did do some small cleaning in preparation for my visiting uncle. I also made it down to Chinatown to the Wing Luke Museum for a meeting about a new project I'll probably be employed to help with.

Yay, working at Wing Luke again... I'm pretty excited.


.:.


blog surfing

Checking the statistics of this blog sometimes leads me to some interesting blogs. One recent visitor came from a blog titled "A Hassid and A Heretic", where the writer wrote an entertaining entry about eating non-kosher chicken teriyaki for the first time - and from a Chinese restaurant too. A Japanese dish from a Chinese restaurant... too funny.


.:.


not all my IM convos are like this

[01:21] Forrest206: hey u read my email?

[01:22] Unseen GC: no
[01:22] Unseen GC: i ignore all your e-mails

[01:22] Forrest206: great

[01:22] Unseen GC: they are pieces of the dark oblivion
[01:22] Unseen GC: that consume all of mankind
[01:23] Unseen GC: edging them to the Great Cthulhu*

[01:23] Forrest206: blah blah blah

[01:23] Unseen GC: ok, i lied

[01:23] Forrest206: you're next on the sacrifice list, Foolio

[01:23] Unseen GC: yeah

heh heh.

*(The Penny Arcade Cthulhu primer. Or Cthulhu at Wikipedia.)
posted by G at 5:47 PM   | (5) comments

lost in thought

There's a lot of things that I should be working on, but whenever I pick up a pen or open up the application to do them, all I can do is stare at the blank page/screen for hours on end. Like a book with no words on the pages or a song with out sound, I can't seem to get content of my mind out in coherent form. My heart seems to be stuck on other worries, and my brain hasn't been able to sum up enough willpower to force it to move forward.

To quote my friend:

asdfjkasgdoaiushglak gaslk;gdhak

Gotta grit my teeth and just get things done. So help me God.
posted by G at 11:57 AM   | (2) comments

news

I've been spending most of today suffering through a runny nose, cough, and sneezing, so instead of the descriptive details of how I spew my phlegm... news, news news.


.:.


new pope

So there's a new pope... Benedict XVI. Already Western Catholics are complaining that a more "liberal" pope wasn't elected, but I'm more disappointed that a cardinal from Latin America or Africa wasn't selected, given the fact that the future of the Catholic Church no longer rests in Europe or North America. I also think that an election of a cardinal from that area would have also guaranteed a cardinal that was interested in the social justice issues of those areas (like poverty), but we'll see. Supposed the new pope chose the name Benedict because Benedict XV was remembered as a "bridge builder" in the Catholic Church.

Some interesting articles:


Pope Benedict's Vexed Inheritance - Some good general background about the new pope and the legacy of John Paul II that he inherits.


Former Hitler Youth - An interesting look at Benedict's past as youth in wartime Germany and being forced to join the Hitler youth, which is quite a contrast to the Polish background of JP2.


.:.


China-Japan relations

The Chinese government now calls for protests to calm down. Relations have been pretty testy lately, but in a way, I think it's a good thing - at least legitimate Chinese complaints about the past such as the massacre of Nanking and Unit 731 can be voiced.

Still, it seems pretty provocative of Japanese government officials like Prime Minister Koizumi to keep visiting Yasukuni Shrine. That's just asking for trouble.


.:.


Bolton


Vote on UN Rep Nominee Bolton Suspended. Man, the more I read about this guy's background and the complaints leveled against him, the more I think that the Bush Administration has a unnatural talent for picking controversial candidates for important positions in government. *cough* Wolfowitz *cough*
posted by G at 10:17 PM   | (2) comments

food, friendships, intentionality



I've been eating out a lot recently with friends. After church on Sunday, my youth pastor treated all of last weekend's camp counselors to dimsum, which really hit the spot - it's actually been awhile since I've had some tasty yum cha... the horrors of living in Kent / Renton. I was really hoping to eat some jah leung, but they didn't have any.

At night, a group of us got dressed up(!) and went out to celebrate the Nishimura twin's birthday at Spazzo Italian Grill, a nice place in downtown Bellevue. I had some pretty tasty lamb stew, saffron rice, and chocolate dessert. I'm usually not normally down with dressing up or eating at expensive Italian restaurants, but it was Amy's birthday... I distinctly remembering her coming to my birthday, both here and way back in Japan when we were both in Kansai.

I am a man conscious of my debts.

This past evening, the boys went to an all-you-can-eat Mongolian grill joint to celebrate Mel's birthday. Pretty typical for a man's birthday, I suppose, but despite the fact none of us were dressed up or staring at downtown Bellevue from the 9th floor of a tall building, it was still enjoyable.

I am also a man with a rapidly expanding waistline.


.:.


My brain has been marinating a little bit recently on the nature of friendships in both the context of my age (closer to 30 than 20) and in West Coast American life. Amy Nish made a comment during her birthday dinner how it some ways, people who are co-workers or neighbors or friends are a lot closer in Japan than they are here in America. I thought it was a good observation, and my first reaction was to blame life with trains vs. life with cars... but the more I thought about it, I began to think that it also has to do with other things as well.

I suppose I'm realizing now that as people my age grow older, it takes a lot more intentionality to maintain good friendships. When I was younger, I could always count on being able to spend time with friends who were my roommates because I lived with them; I could count on regular contact with friends who were classmates because we had the same classes; I could count on always seeing friends who went to the same college campus groups or church... but it's not like that anymore.

Everyone's older now, and if we're working, we're working at different places. Many of my friends are now married, so understandably, they spend a large majority of their time with their spouses. Other friends have gone to different churches and there's not really any major, regularly-meeting fellowship groups we can attend. To put it simply, the structures that allowed us to spend time together effortlessly don't exist anymore in our lives.

If we want to see each other, it takes a lot more work in terms of figuring out schedules and something to do. Luckily, most everybody is a fan of eating, so time can easily be spent going to a restaurant or having a potluck. Still, there's a common thread to our conversations that there's a feeling that there's a lack of connnectedness in our lives, or maybe to put it more accurately, we don't feel as strongly connected to each other as we were or would like to be. Whether it's just nostalgia or it all relates to a spiritual challenge in our community itself, it's hard to say.

But yeah... it's important to be intentional and make time for your friends. Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I think it's important to be loyal and support friends whom you have a shared past with. God's been convicting me a lot lately of taking a more active role in being a good friend to my friends.
posted by G at 10:38 PM   | (4) comments

weekend

One of those lame activity updates.

Thursday night, I went with a load of people to catch my friend Abe and his band, the audiobiography. They played at the EMP's Liquid Lounge, which turned out to be a quite a nice venue. It reminded me of favorite bar in Sannomiya / Kobe, Chey's House, mostly because it was next to a busy street and the fact you had to walk upstairs to get to it. A double of Maker's Mark on the rocks made the resemblance complete.

I was surprised at the number of friends who came to the show - I was fully expecting just a small handful of people, but it quite a nice reunion of old friends. It's always nice when friends come out to support friends. And listening to the audiobiography is quite support-worthy. (hint, hint)

Oh yeah, and Steph got buzzed off her double Mojito. Funny.

Friday was a relaxing day of seeing tulips in the rain, eating Costco polish sausages, having a sandwich and soup, and watching a great movie - Hotel Rwanda.

Most of today, Saturday, was spent helping Stonimus move into his phat new pad near Key Arena. Man, I want a rooftop BBQ area.

Somehow, I got talked into preaching at the youth service tomorrow... I think word is starting to get out that I have trouble saying "no". My message / lesson is coming along slower than I thought it would. Hrmph.
posted by G at 7:34 PM   | (0) comments

lost memories

I hate misplacing things.

These past few months have been one big transition back from Japan life to Seattle life. Besides the various material items (clothes, books, CDs, etc.), a lot of things I still have to sort through are of the digital variety - photos, writings, and other files. And despite all my best efforts, something still got lost. I should have known something would happen.

A couple of weeks ago, I received an e-mail from Japan from the non-profit Spanish/Japanese organization whose bookmark design contest I had won. They were finally heading into full physical production of the bookmarks and asked if I still had the original Photoshop file I used to make the bookmark. I of course obliged by trying to find the file.

So I looked. And I looked. And I looked. I couldn't find the file anywhere.

At first, I wasn't bothered. Then I noticed that a lot of other things were missing. Somewhere between the transition from moving my files off Shiv's laptop to my new computer, a large portion of things I did on the laptop in Japan are gone - PSD files, some photos, writings, rough drafts of some chapters from my book. It's not like losing my cellphone, but it still hurts. All gone...

...dammit.

I hate losing stuff.


.:.


In happier news, Shiv got in Seattle U too. School buddies!
posted by G at 9:28 PM   | (1) comments

the lake retreat re-cap

*EDIT*... pictures are now links

(not dial-up friendly)

As promised, a few pictures + commentary.

01

We left Friday night and the traffic was a bit crazy. Since this year's camp was on Whidbey Island, we had to head north from Seattle and take a ferry... which of course, meant waiting in ferry lines. At least we had some time to get out and stretch.

02

From the ferry.


03

My high school guys in the cabin, do'n the thug pose.


04
05

Saturday morning... Beautiful.


06
07

Ryan passing the OJ, Matrix-style, and waiting for breakfast.


08
09

Our speaker coaches a basketball team, so he showed some of his team's exercises as a part of one his sermons. Two of the guys help him demo this one where in a raised push-up position, you balance yourself on one leg and one arm while stretching an arm out forward. STRETCH!


10

Even Darth Vader sent his daughter and her pink lightsaber to our youth retreat to have fun and play games.


11

I didn't make him put the diaper on his head.


12

This was the set-up for our organized recreation... a 5-part relay race.


13

Step 1: Put an alkaseltzer in your mouth with a cup full of soda pop. Hold for 30 seconds.


14

Step 2: Find the tootsie roll in a diaper filled with chocolate pudding and relish.


15
16
17

Step 3: Roll a raw egg with your head/face across garbage bags that have been plastered with scattered clumps of cottage cheese, chocolate pudding, and relish. Don't break the egg!


19
20

Step 4: Throw the egg to your waiting teammates who are tied together by an old bicycle tire.


21

"I got it!"


22

Step 5: Run to the finish line and do your best "We win, so NYAH!" pose.


18

Ah, the smell of victory... smells like... cheese, chocolate, and relish.


21

Mary on drums, Jada on guitar, and Sophie on the mic as the new girl rock band trio, the "Dim Sum Girls". "Ha-gow, siu-mai, cha-siu-bao, lo-bok-go, cheung fun..."


24
25

Sunday morning counselors' meeting... so early...


26

Time to go bye-bye... sad.


HS Guys

The high school guys, me, and Simo again.

A link to a big group picture (thanks Ryan).


.:.


Yep, it was a great retreat... I got to know a lot of the kids better and I had some good discussions with the guys in my small group. I really do think it's a lot tougher to be a kid nowadays as opposed to when I was in high school. Just because some of them are Christian or their family goes to church doesn't mean that they don't see everything that's going on around them at school - teenage suicide, drinking, hardcore drug use, smoking, and just straight up broken relationships. Christ didn't gloss over the fact that life is filled with difficult things and neither should we who claim to follow him... but I'm glad that at least for one weekend, they can seperate themselves from that kind of environment, reflect, and hopefully go back to the "real world" stronger against the pervasive influences of despair, selfishness, and materialism that our society perpetuates.

I'm already looking forward to the post-rally, but more than that, I think all the interconnections the kids made with the counselors is going to be the thing that can help them the most. I thought about something I heard Keone (our youth pastor) say during the leader's meeting and it resonated with me. It went something like:

Nothing helps someone's journey of faith like the support and encouragement of somebody's who is a little bit further along.

Besides, we should all be laughing about the coconut dance together. (right click + save as)
posted by G at 3:46 PM   | (1) comments

youth retreat aftermath

It was good.

A picture of me, Simo, and the high school guys I counseled in my cabin / small group... (Mike-Chewy, Jeremy, Lloyld, Ed, Kevin, me, Simo)



Random thoughts about my group:

1. We all like the Wu-Tang Clan
2. We also really like butterflies
3. Real men wear blue
4. Old age is making me shorter
5. "Loaded Questions" is still funny

A bigger update later...
posted by G at 6:07 PM   | (0) comments

now there's the hard part



So maybe my interview back in February wasn't as spectacular as I thought it could have been, but now I'm being offered a chance of being one of the select fifty students out of over 250 applicants. I guess somebody is still listening to my prayers, or in the very least, somebody else's. Props to everybody who gave me encouragement even when I doubted.

I consider myself very fortunate that God has provided this opportunity to attend grad school... assuming that He wants me take it.

My brain is already working overtime trying to figure how I'm going to be able to afford grad school or find a place to live... but I want to enjoy this moment. No schemes to sell my organs, bodily fluids, or Danny Ocean-esque casino robberies. At least, no worrying about it all until after this weekend's youth retreat.

Gone until Sunday.
posted by G at 11:32 AM   | (7) comments

backdoor draft?

Let me begin this entry by saying I am filled with only respect and admiration for those who serve/have served in my country's military - I have family who have served, and many of my friends are currently serving in the military. However, I have to say with all honesty that my respect for our soldiers in the military doesn't quite extend to those who command them.

Honestly, after the events of the debacle in Iraq, can you really trust Rumsfeld, Cheney, Wolfowitz, and company? Soldiers being sent out to fight without proper intelligence, armor, and equipment strikes me as grounds for criminal prosecution.

So I'm pretty bothered reading this story about Sgt. Emiliano Santiago. It's no secret that military is relying heavily on reserve forces and that's it having serious problems recruiting quality individuals to serve. But here is a man who has voluntarily served his full 8 years in the National Guard, and at the end of his time, he's now had his time of service involuntary extended... by 27 years! What the hell?!

He's filed a lawsuit against the government, but this latest ruling doesn't look good for him.

Our country's military has been volunteer for good reason - the events of the Vietnam War reshaped the public perception of military service. The experiences of the citizen-soldier of World War II were tarnished by the Vietnam experience. It wasn't the sons of the rich and wealthy who had to suffer - it was those who were poor, non-white, and uneducated who were sent blindly by politicians to fight in Vietnam. And for what? The entire Vietnam War was arguably for nothing more than a government's nationalistic, imperialistic agenda.

I'm not an anti-war hippie or a supporter of dodging your duty to your country. I do believe there are moral reasons for war and in certain circumstances it is justified (WWII being the most common example). But given the complexity of the Iraq conflict, I think there are completely justifiable reasons for any rational person to not want to go. And it's pretty scary to think that even a soldier who has fulfilled his duty, is now being forced to return against his will.

A song by Blue Scholars called "Blink" that comes to mind:

in the military
minorities comprise the majority, suprised?
are you kidding me, the lies
rely on brown bodies to fight for white puppet masters
I cannot fathom how the caged bird drinks
until he thinks he is free
a critical mass
between a heavenly future and a hell of a past

to think you can die in the blink of an eye
I bid you to try, to test I and I
been destined to fly, but i'm rest'n tonight
and one bright morning, I will take flight
but until then
I'll be rock'n upon the "M"
I see the future drippin' out of a pen
and if sleep be the cousin of death
then everytime I blink is one step closer to my last breath

(a taste, right click and "save as")

On a sidenote, now that I'm 26, I'm ineligible for the draft, barring any changes to the law (some quick info about Selective Service). Current law affects men ages 18-25. Though like most guys my age, I had to register for the draft when I turned 18 like everyone else. But being ineligible certainly doesn't make me feel any better about younger friends being sent off in my place to die for American hegemonic ego or oil.
posted by G at 10:34 AM   | (0) comments

The CoHi2005 site is up that I did some work along with Dave. And according to the counter, I'm the 3rd visitor. haha.
posted by G at 9:48 AM   | (1) comments

memories, part iv

It always plays out the same way.

I'm standing behind the glass, watching him play. All sound is muffled except the sounds of the game... the squeaking of shoes against the hardwood floor, the rhythmic noise of the ball hitting the wall and ground. I can smell the particular brand of gymn funk - the smell of sweat and of the inadequate cheap air freshener that's trying to cover it.

Then suddenly, it's quiet and I can't smell anything. My father is laying on the ground, on his back. I can't see his face, only his shoes and his socks. He's not moving at all. There's a feeling of panic in the air. People rushing around. Someone is trying to do CPR. I don't want to look, but I can't close eyes. My muscles are frozen. I reach my hand out, but its blocked by the glass.

The scene changes.

I'm leaving school early to see my father. I get picked up and dropped off at Valley Medical Center. I'm walking through the halls of the hospital to my father's room. The place is empty and I feel cold. The air smells like medicine and disinfectant. The sound of my shoes shuffling against the carpet is strange... I'm shaking.

I can't see any color. Everything is shaded and gray.

I enter the room and my father's bed is on the left side. Machines and tubes and wires surround him as he lays in his coma. There's the cliche beeping of the heart monitor in the background. I tentatively stretch out my right hand to hold his hand, but my hand hovers right above it... as if there's something keeping it from moving the last few inches to make contact. I close my eyes and force my hand down by sheer will.

The feeling of holding my father's hand is strange. It doesn't feel right... only about a month in the hospital and the hand has withered, the muscles atrophied. I look at his face, his closed eyes and I'm not used to seeing him without his glasses on. My hand squeezes his, wondering if at least he'd squeeze back. Please let him wake up, I pray silently as I squeeze his hand again and look at his face. There's no response.

The scene changes again.

I'm being picked up from school early again, but I notice that I'm being taken to my house first instead of the hospital. My sister and I are told to go upstairs to see my mother. The house is quiet except for the scattered murmurs of family and close friends talking.

I walk up the staircase, the familiar steps... seven steps, turn, seven steps. I turn left and walk to my parents' bedroom, pushing the half-closed door open. I hear my mother sniffling on the otherside. My mother is sitting on the bed. There's a box of tissues next to her, along with paperwork and colored brochures. As she motions us to come closer, I notice the titles of the brochures. The words assault my eyes.

Understanding Grief. Helping Your Child Grieve. Explaining Death to Your Child. DEATH.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no NO, I'm repeating in my mind. My mother hasn't even spoken yet, but I look at her face and I just know. I can't breath. The air is still.

My jaw tightens, my teeth feel like they're clenching hard enough to break. My eyes feel hot and I try to clench them tight too. But the tears force their way out anyway.

The scene changes again.

I'm back at the athletic club again, sitting with my sister in the child-care nursery. It stinks of baby powder. Both my sister and I sit motionless on chairs that are too small for us, surrounded by toys that we're too old for. A television is playing from a hanging mount in the corner. We're the alone in a nursery... the only children along with the nanny, a young white girl who watches the TV.

I'm sure your father will be OK, she says. They're probably just taking him to the hospital for treatment or some tests.

I stare at her and my eyes narrow. I turn to look away, without saying a word. Please let him be OK, I pray in my head. Was it something I did? Please let him be OK.

My brow is furrowed as I close my eyes to pray. The TV drones on, but I can't hear it.

The dream always plays out the same way.

(memories parts i, ii, iii)



.:.





By the artist formerly known as faye (thanks). Been meaning to post this for awhile.
posted by G at 3:11 PM   | (1) comments

"Man always travels along precipices. His truest obligation is to keep his balance."
-Pope John Paul II

Reading a biography about the Pope, I can't help but think how much it would have been interesting to meet him in person, even though I'm not Catholic. A writer, an actor, a scholar, a social activist, and most of all, a man of faith. He was probably the most accessible and open pope in history, visiting Jerusalem and even a mosque, yet he held firmly to unpopular Biblical stances on issues such as abortion and gay rights.

He truly was one of a kind.

What resonated with me the most about him was reading about the personal tragedies and sufferings in his life - the early deaths of his mother, older brother and his father; living in Nazi-occupied Poland; being hit twice(!) by cars as a young man... he was a person intimately and personally aquainted with suffering in every sense of the word.

I respect that a lot about someone. I think only those who suffer/have suffered can truly empathize with those are suffering.

On a happier note, he left quite a large volume of written work, including a memoir describing his entry into the priesthood titled Gift and Mystery. Maybe I'll read it after I get through the other books in my ever expanding "to read" pile.


.:.


CoHi 2005


There was a CoHi meeting recently... I wrote some random thoughts on the Wudan Mountain blog. I'm also hoping to update the CoHi 2005 site soon... but the CoHi blog seems to be adequate for now.
posted by G at 1:55 AM   | (0) comments

grouchy

I haven't been sleeping well... consistent nights of restful sleep haven't been happening for me. Dreams that I dream aren't dreams... they're slow and endless loops of the past; framed memories frozen in gray like vintage photos.

March is my month of mourning. It's a weird cosmic irony that my father's birthday and the events of his death 15 years ago occupy the same month each year, before the April Easter season. Old wounds remain raw, and it is me, not them, that somehow grows more callous... a callousness that conceals a festering bitter resentment against an endless laundry list of things both tangible and intangible. As much as I try to restrain my own negativity, the floodgates can't stay closed by virtue of trying alone.

The Universe. Time. Circumstances. Humanity. Even some of the people in my life. All nourishment for the personal bonsai tree of discontentment hidden in a cracked surface of my soul. Even prayer has seemed a solitary exercise again... I dial, but no one picks up. Just like 15 years ago.

And now, just like then, disappointment is a familiar weight to carry.

If I could project my feelings in an audible 15 foot radius around me, it would sound a little like this... Ghostwriter. (right-click & "save target as")

Words don't come so easily in the morning... I want to go back to sleep, and wake up sometime other than now.
posted by G at 6:57 AM   | (0) comments

like a monk... or a bum



So imagine this scenario: You're wearing cargo pants without a belt, a hoodie, no socks, and flip-flops. No one's home but you. You don't know anybody within walking distance. It's pouring rain... and you're locked out of the house.

What do you do?

Welcome to my life. Witness how God, the universe, and my own forgetfulness conspires against me.


.:.


I had stepped outside to walk the GF to her car like a dutiful BF, and I stood in the driveway waving goodbye like a beauty queen until she was out of sight. As I walked back to my front door, I discovered to my surprise that the door had locked behind me. Dah... no wallet, cellphone, or keys. Nobody in the area that I know.

What a great time to be locked outside.

In vain, the thought crossed my mind to chase my GF's car, but I was wearing flip flops and it was beginning to rain hard. The attempt would have the double bonus of being futile and getting me drenched more. Even worst, she had left her cellphone at home, so there was no way to contact her until she was all the way home, 45 minutes away in North Seattle.

I vaguely recalled that my best friend Josh's parents had a key to my house. They used to live just down the street... until they moved away 2 years ago.

The rain started to pour harder, and I didn't want to be seen sitting in front my house like a burglar, so I walked to the backyard. Surprisingly, the toolshed was open. It hadn't been used in years... dust and cobwebs everywhere. I poked around and as I took inventory of what was in shed, a plan formulated in my brain involving a broom, a pencil, and the spare wood in the shed.

Using the broom, I swept the floor of the shed of the dust, cobwebs, and dead bug parts. I then ran through the rain to get mail from the mailbox, scribbling a note to my Mom that I placed under the wheel of the recycling bin that I wheeled directly in front of her garage door. Running back to the toolshed, I cleared out a large space. I wanted to keep the shed door closed because of the pouring rain, but after 10 minutes inhaling whatever rotting pesticides left in there and experiencing euphoric visions of the cast of Beverly Hills 90210 being eaten alive by pillbugs, I thought it safer to allow some fresh wind. I brushed the spare wood clean and stacked the pieces of wood to make a clean platform I could sit on.

The plan was to sit and wait until my Mom came home from work, which was a bit unpredictable. If and when she arrived home, she'd find the recycling bin annoyingly blocking her from entering the car. She'd predictably exit the car to move the can, and find my note under the wheel, and then come to get me.

So I sat down cross-legged on my platform. And I waited...

...

...

...

...

...

...for two and a half hours.

My poor mother was scared to death... it's not everyday you find your son half-asleep, wet, and cold in a crosslegged position in the backyard after he's scribbled a note "I'M IN THE TOOLSHED" on one of the envelopes in your mail.

It took some explaining. But at least I could finally go back into the house.
posted by G at 6:38 PM   | (6) comments

facing reality is not betrayal of faith

Relevant commentary by someone else.


.:.


Facing reality is not betrayal of faith
By LEONARD PITTS JR.
lpitts@herald.com

(From the Miami Herald.)

''Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him'' - Job 13:15

The tears surprised me. I pulled over, blinded by them.

The incident is sharp in memory because it was a turning point: the moment I finally accepted the unacceptable. My mom was going to lose her battle with breast cancer. She was going to die.

My sisters and brother had already come to terms with it. I was the one still clinging, stubbornly and defiantly, to an expectation of miracles. To do otherwise felt like a betrayal of my mother. And of my faith.

But that day back in 1988, acceptance finally forced itself on me. Cancer had made her a stick figure. It had clouded her mind with hallucination. And it had reduced her to a toddler, her hand feather light in mine as she tottered down the hall.

I left her bedside at a trot. Got in the car and drove until I couldn't see.

As you've probably guessed, I'm writing about Terri Schiavo, who died today. And I'm doing what I guess we all do when we contemplate her tragedy. I am personalizing it.

How can you not? On the one side, there is Michael Schiavo, ordering removal of the feeding tube that sustained his wife for 15 years because, he said, she would not have wanted to live in a vegetative state. On the other, there are the parents, Robert and Mary Schindler, begging in tears for their daughter to simply live, in whatever state she could. It is only natural to run such a painful conundrum though the filter of experience -- or imagination -- and try to tease out truth you can live with.

Here's mine. Acceptance is hard. Acceptance hurts like hell.

For as much time as we've spent discussing spousal rights, political opportunism and the meaning of life, I think that's the signature lesson here: Conceding the inevitability of death is one of the hardest duties of life. And maybe the longer you put it off -- the Schindlers and Michael Schiavo have been fighting for seven years -- the more difficult it becomes.

Which is why the denouement of this drama has been painful, even for those of us who were not directly involved. Watching the increasingly naked desperation of the fight to keep Terri alive came to feel intrusive and voyeuristic. You wanted to turn away, but there was no place you could go.

So you watched as the Schindlers strained credulity with claims that their daughter tried to say ''I want to live'' even as her feeding tube was removed. And never mind that, five years ago, according to a report in the Miami Herald, the couple openly conceded that Terri was insensate, her brain destroyed.

You watched as the Rev. Jesse Jackson, in a stunning illustration of the axiom about politics and bedfellows, spoke out on behalf of the Schindlers, a boogeyman of the liberal left making common cause with the religious right.

You watched as House Majority Leader Tom DeLay denounced as ''barbarism'' the removal of Terri's feeding tube and trampled the constitutional separation of powers with extraordinary legislative maneuvers to keep her alive, yet neglected to mention that he raised no similar objection 17 years ago when his father suffered a massive head injury and the family decided it was best that the elder DeLay be allowed to die.

You watched as people went just a little bit nuts.

And maybe, if you were the praying type, you said, Hey, God, how about a little help here? When should we stop waiting on the miracle? When is it OK to give up hope?

But God, as far as is known, kept His own counsel. Maybe He felt He'd said what He had to say 15 years ago.

Terri Schiavo's death, hard as it was, feels like mercy. For her and for us. Once again, we can avoid confronting our irresolute feelings and fears.

There is, however, wisdom here, for those to care to seek it. Roughly distilled, it goes like this: to face reality is not to betray faith.

God answers every prayer, a preacher once said.

Sometimes, the answer is no.
posted by G at 7:15 AM   | (2) comments

in?scrip?tion (n-skrip-shun)n.
1. The act or an instance of inscribing.
2. Something, such as the wording on a coin, medal, monument, or seal, that is inscribed.
3. A short, signed message in a book or on a photograph given as a gift.
4. The usually informal dedication of an artistic work.
5. Jeremiah 31:33