Preventing Nap Time

One of the things that always gets me in trouble is the attitude of "I can do that!".  How many times have I tackled a project at home as a result of I can do that, then in the middle of it, Im thinking, maybe I bit off a little too much.  Except it is too late.  Engineers are famous for that.  My wife (teachers) is also famous for that.  I have a history of taking on things at her encouragement.

As I contemplate ideas for a new short film, it is a combination of what the hell am I doing and hey, wouldn't it be neat if I could do the film on.....   But it come down to this is a story that needs to be told.  It is obvious that there are more folks out there that believe I can, but there remains the time and creativity to put it together.

I look at the styles that I can emulate.  I tend to find them on TV.  NHK is one of the channels I watch with a simple style of story telling and narration, I love the opening of the series the Closer.  I always liked the style of 60 minutes and it's format.  I like the theme songs of the Andy Griffith Show, WKRP, and of course Hawaii five O.  I tend to watch old tv shows late at night for ideas.

I notice on some shows the background music is the same or inappropriate, music rights are complicated and expensive.  It has gotten to the point what few movies I see, I look for music incorporation.  But our class is teaching us about the things that are not only basic, but what makes a good film.

All of these nuances enhance the film.  There is a difference between talking heads and an entertaining film.  30 seconds is an eternity on film where most cuts in TV are 5 to 10 seconds long,
We have an obligation to tell a story, but we have an obligation to create a film where people feel and understand the story and not want to walk out or take a nap.

The Sounds of Silence

I have noticed that which each visit to the hospital ERs, I find new rooms and additions I haven't seen before.  Wait, just how many times have I been in the ERs of Torrance Memorial and Providence Little Company of Mary?  Today was another visit, in a section I have never seen.  For some reason my BP was elevated and would not go down. Now my normal BP is on the high side with meds, but this time there were associated side affects that freaked Gayle out.

You know it is serious if you are taken in right away when you check in and never see the waiting room again.  The frequency of Nurses and Doctors coming in and out of your room indicates how serious your condition is.  Did you know that at 3 in the morning there aren't that many people in there?

I'm used to being in the hospital and it's procedures.  Go there and wait, get up and go over there for this test, return and wait.  Strip down and put on this gown, open side in back.  Roll over and let me perform these invasive procedures.  It's time to suck more blood out of that tube in your arm and by the way,  it's time for your hourly temp, BP and oxy level check, did I wake you?

Side note:  Gayle did not drop me off across the parking lot, but in front of the front door.  Which brings up the other side of these visits.  While it has become familiar and almost comfortable to me, it drives Gayle up the wall.  I can lay there in calm, pain or nauseousness, but she sits in constant turmoil and worry.  Something I tend to not see.  It is the family that suffers in silence.

You Might Be a Psychopath if You Like Your Coffee Black

A 2015 study from the University of Innsbruck in Austria found a trend that suggested a correlation between preferences for black coffee and other bitter tastes, and sadistic or psychopathic personality traits.   Wait,  I like it black........

Senior Occurences

Senior Occurrences is my euphemism for elderly events.   Or maybe Elderly events is a euphemism for old folks accidents.  Last week I was attending a series of lectures held at the Center for Democracy across from the JANM.  It conflicted with my video class at the Visual Communications Center around the corner and across the parking lot.

In my rush to get to class, I had asked a question of the guard as I was leaving the Democracy Center and turned to smash into the glass window with a bang. I quickly recovered and exited the center through the glass door and noticed I was bleeding profusely.  We all know nose bleeds can be a bit of a mess, and as blood was pouring out of me, I was rushing across the parking lot to the class.

As I entered the class I rushed by my classmates dumping my notebook and headed straight to the restroom.  It was there that I started to realize how much I was bleeding.  It took about a good 30 minutes for the bleeding to stop and puzzled looks from my classmates.  They were more worried about my condition than I was, but then I didn't really see all the blood over my face and clothes.

Trips, falls, wrong turns, mis-identified facts, forgotten names are becoming more frequent.  I first tried to attribute it to the heart attack or chemo brain, but I am realizing that it is more about old age.
I was hoping to be one of those old folks whose brain is still sharp as a tack.  In fact one of my classmates can be defined that way.  But I am starting to doubt my brain will outlast my body.  Of course it helps to have an exceptional brain to begin with.....

This week as I attended my VC class, I was able to follow my trail of blood up the back stairs and was relieved that it stopped at the door.  Did I mention that the sun was shining brightly through the glass? Or at least I think it was.....

                                             The window is on the right, door on the left.

Adding Insult to Injury

I have be watching the World Series between the Dodgers and Red Sox.  Or more accurately, dozing off during the World Series.  Don't tell any one, but I'm not a fan of new baseball.  Analytics, the in and outs of multiple pitchers, but I do admire the many 100 mph pitchers with multiple Tommy John surgeries.

Im still mourning Vince Scully and yes I'm still ticked at Time Warner, now known as Spectrum for stealing the last years of listening to Vinny. As a Angeleno that once moved away for awhile, growing up with Vinny's voice is one thing, missing that voice from far away as you listen to vastly inferior story telling is torture.

The new replacement (I still don't know his name) and his partner Orel, are ok.  But they talk way too much.  Vinny was the master, fewer words, better stories and descriptions of the game.

The Insult?  Fox is running two commercials with his voice over.  One for the Children's Hospital and once of him reading a poem for T Mobile.  Everytime I hear them, it jogs the memory.  The brain goes, wait..... hey, isn't that Vince Scully? and I miss him more.

Here's to Vinny and his many years of comfort listening pleasure.

In House Support

One of the advantages of having a son who graduated with a Computer Science degree is that we have free computer support 24hrs. a day.  Remember the Wada game of Chicken where those of us that are at home play possum when mom yells for help in the middle of the night?  Well that game went away after he graduated and moved back home.  What about the times he is not home?  Never ending Text messages until he responds, then transferring to face time.  There is no escape 😂  And we have a never ending list of tasks that need addressing, fill her iPad with songs for her class?  Instructions on how to hook the iPad to her projector?  It was worth the 4 years of tuition.

Being There

I'm sitting in the first class of the video senior class, and I'm going, what am I doing here?  They are asking what your favorite film was and favorite director.  They are showing experimental avant guard films that drove me crazy when I was younger.  Folks are commenting on the hidden meanings or altered reality or the message.  I'm seeing crazy people that may be affected a little too much by consuming illegal pharmaceuticals.  Really, this is a guy who has trouble sitting through a full length movie in a theater.  I'm ready to leave after the previews.  I haven't paid to see a feature film in years.  It is easier to watch it in bits and pieces on TV.  I can get up and go to the bathroom at any time with the knowledge that the film will be replayed over and over again.  I still haven't seen the first Star Wars movie all the way through.

I am a fan of 60 minutes.  I have been watching that show since it's inception.  I am fascinated that they can delve into a subject for 20 minutes.  And yes I loved the Mike Wallace ambushes and his confrontational interviews.  "some people say...., not me of course, but other people........"  Before that, I used to watch the documentary series CBS Reports.  My reason for being at the senior video class is to document people's stories, especially those that get overlooked.

I'm finding the focus of the class is slowly shifting.  The heart of the program is shifting away from the stories.  The simple stories of life.  But I'm finding I'm also there to improve my story telling. to make it more interesting than just watching talking heads.  I still feel guilty that my first video did not turn out that well.  I am almost ashamed to have folks view it.  I know every mistake, every spot where I could have done better, areas where if I had short some other footage, etc.  I was hoping to do better for those who consented to be interviewed.

I'm also finding that I'm being connected or exposed to other areas of the community other than basketball.  There are a lot of issues out there that affect our unique community.  Little Tokyo still exists, our unique history that influences our local communities, the aculturalization of the fourth and fifth generations.  The huge issue between us and the other JA communities up and down the coast and across the nation.

Can my voice make a difference?  I'm not sure, but at least I may be able to let people access stories that are often ignored and overlooked.  There is an endless list of possibilities.  I guess I'm sticking it out another year.

Saturday Night Football

Observations of a trip to the LA Coliseum for a USC football game:

Avoiding the traffic by taking the public bus, minimum $25 parking far from the stadium that increases in price as you get closer to the stadium, half drunk youth outside the stadium, crowds dressed in burnt blood red, guy in front standing up hollering as if would affect the opposition, incessant playing of the Trojan fight song, old men following rituals they would be embarrassed to do outside of the confines of SC, the feel of the band penetrating the atmosphere without electronic amplification, the clarity and brightness of the football field, the color "crimson" and the calculated profits off of the sales of university paraphernalia, security measures of metal detectors, clear tote bags, and baggage search (only one bottled water per person unopened), university success in athletics continually played between breaks, the crowd silence at the opposition scoring, did I meant the incessant playing of the fight song? the announcer who sounds like the Dodger stadium guy, large stadium TVs for those too far away to see or have a guy directly in front constantly rising to stand and block my view during critical plays, what ever happened to the Jumbotron?, a lone elderly man standing with two fingers sideways shaking to the beat of the incessant you know what, no instant replay when it goes against SC, a sound system bass that reverberates throughout the whole stadium beneath your feet, concession hawkers that need a lesson from their counterparts at the the Chavez Ravine, leaving at halftime to catch the bus back, walking through the deserted tossed remnants of pre game tailgating, waiting at the bus stop atop the 110 freeway between 10 lanes of cars exceeding the speed limit, running into two couples that we know from Torrance at the bus stop, what is it about older folks leaving early to beat the rush?  USC beat Colorado 31 to 20.  In all, a nice night in Southern California.   Go Huskies.

Japanese American Relocation Primer

I just finished viewing the Valley PBS special "Silent Sacrifice" that a friend recommended.  It is on the relocation of Japanese Americans during World War II and is from the perspective of the California Central Valley.  What I liked about it was that it gave a wide view of the events leading up to, the relocation and confinement, readjustment after camp and the emotional aspects.  It was in my opinion extremely well done.  This is a good primer or starting point for those interested.  Just be warned that it is 2 hrs. in length.  

https://valleypbs.org/sacrifice/

35 and Counting

Today was like any other Monday.  The search for a restaurant open on a Monday.  I'm sure you can relate to that quandary.  Mondays are usually the day restaurants close.  What made this Monday different was that it was 35 years ago we were married.

It was at Anaheim Japanese Free Methodist, Pastor Carl Yoshimine performed the ceremony.  It rained the night before so there was a possibility of moving the outdoor tables inside.  The weather cleared up and sun shined warmly.  It was Todd Sakata's first official catering job as the food was memorable even to this day.  Gayle's Sunday school class helped serve.  I ended up embarrassing Gerry Shiozaki in the garter belt presentation as the most eligible bachelor.

We at times wonder about our marriage.  During marriage counseling, Pastor Carl had us take personality tests to indicate our compatibility.  He never did let us see the results.  She came from a family that tragically lost their dad at an early age, their mom was in ill health and could barely walk her down the aisle.  We were in the later stages of turmoil as her brother had eloped a few weeks before and would have been fodder for a Korean soap opera.

Of course, my side was no different, providing enough material for a sequel.  I came from a divorced family where I never really understood how dysfunctional my family life was and how it affected me until I was married.  To this day, there are thankfully fewer remnants of that dysfunction in my being. Or I try to convince myself.

Our claim to longevity is that we both thank each other for putting up with each other and our foibles.    But only after complaining about the other, of course.  We argue as to who sacrificed more, Gayle or myself and for some reason, I always lose.

It was a scrumptious quiet Wagyu dinner at Wadatsumi, followed up with ice cream at Kansha.  Then home to doze off during final Jeopardy.  May she put up with me another 35.

Guilty Pleasure

OK, I admit I have been secretly watching Fresh off the Boat in reruns.  I have been avoiding the show assuming that it would be another American Girl or Mr. T and Tina.   Even though it continues the tradition of Asians adjusting to American life, I find myself laughing at jokes only Asians would find hilarious.   Im still giggling about a B minus being a Chinese F.  It reminds me of my high school days in Vancouver Wa.

I'm still waiting for the day we reach the point where asians on tv are an accepted part of American life.  The grandkids are a combination of Chinese 3rd and Japanese 5th generation (= fourth?) and are still breaking barriers.  The problem is we still meet some of those stereotypes.  And those are the jokes I find hilarious.

Wink, Wink, Nod, Nod, Bob's Your Uncle,

or in other words:  Married to a Miyoshi

The last of the Miyoshi Brothers died a few weeks ago.  Toru was the youngest of the four bothers (Akira, Jun and Buck) and remained in Santa Maria, their home town.  He was one of the few asian politicians of the area, serving as a Santa Barbara supervisor, and Santa Maria City Councilman as well as other positions in government.  At his grave site service, the remaining third generation gathered to honor his life and with his wife Jean, daughters Lisa and Joni, and grandchildren Laura and Logan.

As an impromptu gathering, there were four of us men chatting when we realized that we all had one thing in common.  We were all married to a Miyoshi.  Somehow that silent bond ran with deep understanding.  It was a gleam in the eye accompanied by silence.  If a word of understanding was uttered, it would bring a hearty laugh and unfathomable responses of outrage from our wives.  We can only grin and muffle laughter as we all knew what it meant.

Yes, being a Miyoshi is as unique as being a Wada.  It is something about three surviving brothers with an older fourth brother tragically dyeing young.  With the Wada's it was George, Yukio, Kennie and Frank.  Is it true with other families?  Im not sure, but in this case, there are strong similarities.  When ever the third generation Wada cousins gather, there will be eventually a picture taken of the wives.  But in the Wada case, it more of a chagrin, or OK, I will admit I married a Wada.  It is my fate in life.

With Miyoshi's, there is a stronger undercurrent of spirit that their grandmother possessed in unlimited supply.  I do not really know or have talked at length to either of my compatriots, but there still remains a deep understanding of what it is like being:   Married to a Miyoshi.

Good News, Bad news

Today #2 begins a new chapter in his life.  He starts his drive up to Seattle.  It is good in that he is moving on with his life.  Job opportunities and health issues are prompting the move.  But on the other hand, it is sad he is leaving.  He had given us a bit of stability around the chaos of our lives.  I will miss that.  Gayle loses her movie watching partner, I lose my “go help your mother” late night dodge.  He did a lot of clean up chores around the house that were severely neglected by my health issues and was always ensuring I didn’t need to call 911.

We wish you well in Seattle Jordan.

Deja vu all over again

As we got back from Texas,  I was able to visit our local ER again.  I know what you are asking, did she drop me off and make me walk into ER?  Sort of.  I asked her to drop me off in the back and had to make my way to the front of the hospital where ER was located.  It was longer than I estimated.

ER?  The night we returned from Texas, the first thing we did was head to a late night Japanese Restraurant.  Later that night I started getting a pain in my lower back, just below the rib cage towards the back, inside.  It was enough to keep me up at night.  Though a series of events, it was eventually determined I was passing a kidney stone.

For those of you who have experienced a Kidney stone have already flinched in commiseration.  The tales of many of those who have been felled by the little objects of pain.

I have learned more than I wanted to.  Apparently there are different types of stones.  Either way, they are quite painful.  They make large strong men wither in the fetal position.  It is unrelenting.  But apparently blood in the urine is a good sign, that the stone is passing.

I have been told to drink lemon juice to dull the spiky points of the stone.  But there seems like there is no quick cure other than running it's course.  Ouch.

Ok, for those of you keeping score, One heart attack resulting in quadruple bypass, Colon Cancer, the removal of 1/3 of my colon and 6 months of Chemo Therapy, Two cases of bacterial infection, and now Kidney Stones.  Thank goodness for health insurance.

What was the hardest part?  Expaining to the grandson what all the scars were for.  He actually asked good questions for a 5 year old.  How do you explain bypass surgery, comparing it to a clogged pipes in the sink.  Cancer was another story.  I don't think he quite understood that one.  But either do I.

LBJ

Today was a trip to Austin, to visit the LBJ presidential library.  This was well worth the trip.  One look at the building and the word "monolith" comes to mind.  Either that or the Borg.  It is a huge square building.  I have to admit, it was well worth the trip.  But Austin did not sit well with the wife and we immediately took off for the River Walk of San Antonio.

Of course instead of strolling along the riverwalk, we went to a Diner, Drive in and Dive         .  It was a combination of all three.  Basic home style cooking.  A half order of onion rings was a full serving in LA.  She had the talipia special (they just ran out of the 3D feature of chicken fried steak sandwich) I had the pork gravy on toast with mashed potatoes.  I also stole her spinach.  Interesting is the best we can describe.  Of course we closed out the joint, but we got a laugh from the cashier when she called about their hours and asked if they took reservations.

We did take a cruise down the riverwalk, the tourist thing to do in 90 degree heat at 10pm at night.  Tomorrow is the Alamo.

Remember the ....... Heat?

The Alamo.

Why?  Well the good state of California became part of the USA as a result of the war with Mexico and Mexico president Santa Ana signing over the California territory.  I still don't remember  this from the fourth grade (California history).  I'm just thankful the wife did not make me travel to see the Texas missions (the Alamo was once a Mission).

Master Builder

I'm sitting here watching the 5 yr. old grandson build LEGOs.  He is always asking for LEGO kits and we try to purchase the simpler (less bricks) kits.  At the last visit, he was able to assemble them with some assistance.  The most common mistake was putting the piece in the wrong spot.

Six months later, I watch and observe.  He will spread out his parts, look at the instructions, pick out his parts.  Then he takes a pause and studies how he is going to assemble it.  He is methodical and a little scary.  I'm looking at the box (Y-Wing Starfighter) and it recommends  ages 8 to 14.  It would give me a headache assembling it now and no concept of what to do when i was his age.

In my day, I was assembling Gilbert erector sets,  but at twice his age.  Nuts, bolts, wrenches, gilders. I never had quite enough to do the projects I wanted.

I was shooting a video of him earlier assembling the LEGO, he wanted to see what I was doing.  I showed him how to mount it on the tripod, turn on the camera and which button to push.  This evening, he set it up himself and started taping himself.

I thought Jared was scary at five sitting in front of a PC, imitating his brothers and using the keyboard.

I guess the next time here I show him how to use iMovie to create his own film.  What is really hitting me is not his expertise in building LEGOs, but that he will start Kindergarten in two weeks.  Yes my eldest grandchild is starting school.  We bought him his backpack and lunch pail (star wars of course) today and going for school shoes tomorrow.

Sigh.......................

Band aide Kid

While the eldest is the Master Builder, the younger one is the Band aide Kid.  We name him that because he is constantly wearing a band aide for a boo boo that ocurred. I have sent him just about every version of band aides over the last few months since his head injury.  Peanuts, minions, fluorescent colors, star wars, etc.  Everyday I check he is buckled in the van, I see a new band aide.  He reminds me of Les Nessman of WKRP.  It is a part of who he is.

He is always changing clothes.  Whenever it is time to go somewhere, he disappears and comes out with new clothes.  My first indication of this behavior was when I emptied the dryer of the boys' clothes.  90% of the load was clothes of #2.

He found the covered cot display at Cabelas.  Happy 3rd birthday.

Texas cont.

Our first day on the road to Austin, we stop in Waco.  What do you do in Waco on a Sunday afternoon?  Not much.  Most attractions and restaurants are closed on Sundays.  But there is the Dr. Pepper Museum.  Yes it origination is in Waco Texas.  And within eyesight of the Magnolia Silos.

You can get an original Dr. Pepper made at the fountain with syrup and carbonated water.  She said she preferred the bottles.

But I digress, we are in Waco Texas, yes the land of Baylor University and Magnolia at the Silos.
What this all means is waking up at 6am to dine at the Magnolia Table.  We were warned that the waits can be up to 3 hours in the heat.  Turns out our wait was 2 minutes.  What a relief.  The food was not bad, the service great.  It reminded me of Disneyland, Jojo style.

Then the trip to the Silos.  It is 100 degrees out and the place is crowded.  In the store, there are two sections, one air conditioned and the other larger area downstairs, cooled by gigantic fans.  I found a spot by the entrance behind a display table where there was no traffic.  Once I planted myself, I did not move for however long it took for her to shop.

Can you find Waldo (Gayle)?  she is in there.  And she is one of the few Asians or for that matter minorities in the whole place.

The Texas Ranger museum, next to the visitor center.  Why the visitor center when the two (and a half) major attractions have been seen?  She wanted a picture of her and a cut our of Chip and Jojo.  It was closed so the next thing to do was walk over to the museum.

Now if you are thinking Baseball, no think more of Chuck Norris and his TV show.  Those Texas Rangers of the law enforcement kind.  It was interesting, especially if you like guns, but there seemed to be a few gaps in their history, WWII and JFK.

On the road again,  Texas has two lane divided highways in the back roads.  Except the left lane is for passing only, everyone else drives in the right lane.  There are numerous Historical Markers along the way, but you can't tell what they are except by the small number at the bottom of the sign.   I haven't looked on line yet, but am just glad the heat is keeping Gayle from making me pull over every time she sees one.  The last observation is that there are signs that say bridges ice over in cold weather, for every bridge.

We are now in a AC hotel room not willing to venture out just yet, remember the hottest time of the day?  Yep, 5pm.

Waco

My first post was somehow lost in the great iCloud in the sky.  It was on our trip to of all places, Waco.  Yes, the land of JoJo and Chip.  Oh and Baylor university.  If those two institutions were not there, why would you stop?  To see the Dr. Pepper Museum is of course.  Most places were closed on Sunday so we ended up at the museum with the Magnolia Silos in sight (one block away).

There should be a footnote that Waco is also the site of the Branch Davidians compound of David Koresh and his standoff with Janet Reno.

Did you know that Orange Crush actually tastes better in Texas?  It has a full flavor or orange.  At the museum they do serve drinks made from syrup and carbonated water.  They make it at the fountain.  According to the expert, she prefers the bottled stuff.

Texas Driving:  Frontage roads, they run parallel to the freeway in one direction.  Similar to the Pomona freeway in Montebello.  So if you see something you want to stop at, you get off at the next exit, make a u turn at the next intersection (another mile) make your way back hopefully at the exit before the place you want to visit,

If you are approaching an intersection on a frontage road, the far left lane is the u turn lane and the signs may not agree with the arrow markings on the road.  i was told to follow the road markings.  Two lane highways, the inner lane is used for passing only.  So everyone drives in the right lane.

At times the speed limit was 75mph.  Every try driving a Yaris going 75mph with a semi truck running beside you at the same speed?  At least they are limited to the right 3 lanes.  Yes that is correct, they are only excluded from the fast lane.  You end up playing chicken on the highway at 75mph as you run over the numerous shredded tire remnants along the road.

One thing about Texas, you always know that you are in Texas.  The freeways are imbedded with either Lone Stars or the shapes of Texas.  The above is the Hotel room decoration in Waco.  I'm beginning to understand the obsession with the Dallas Cowboys.

Old age progression

Our first night in Texas was a lesson in Uber.  We have taken Uber before, but not to this extent.  Im preparing for old age fro when the boys take away my drivers license.  It was painless and pleasant.  But when we got the rental car lot, we had to pick out our car, we picked a red Toyota Yaris.  The problem was that it took us 20 minutes to figure out how to start the car.  OK, for those of you who are not familiar with us, our cars have keys and were built in the 90's.  She keeps saying she wants a car built in this century.

Lesson 1:  Keep the FOB close by, and yes there is no key.  Make sure the gear is in Park.  Press on the brake pedal.  Push the start button.  I miss my key.

Lesson 2:  The radio controls are not on screen.  They are either on the steering wheel or on the center counsel below the shift knob.  When did they move the volume knob?  At least it is still a knob.

Digital odometers do not measure in anything below full miles.  Analog odometers have a wheel for tenths of a mile.  When google tells you that the next turn is in .7 miles, you can't judge by the odometer.

Lesson 4:  I actually qualify for senior discounts!!  Hey, I save my $1.  I gladly admit I qualify to get my dollar discount.  I am more used to people holding doors open for me.  Wait, they asked me if I was a senior, does that mean I look like one?

Too Much Information

"Technology brings us more information, but not always more clarity,"    James Rainey
I recently read this article on Fathers day and DNA testing.  How much information is too much information and what did I pass on to my sons?
  https://www.salon.com/2018/06/24/what-genetic-testing-didnt-tell-me-about-my-cancer/

Of course, there is always this legacy:

“I’m a longtime sufferer of AWS (Aggressive Whisker Syndrome); I find it almost
impossible to get a completely clean shave.”                                     David Pogue

Semi-colon

This week was my annual check up with the Oncologist.  Good news, no evidence of cancer.  It happened to correspond with National Cancer Survivor Day.  The article below sums up some of the feelings of surviving cancer.

"But, like so many so-called cancer survivors in so-called remission, I wait for one. I wait, alert, in no-man’s land, the place to which my mind returns in between all its other preoccupations and activities. It is an eerie place, the fear of recurrence. A grenade may whistle into the expectant silence any time – or never at all."

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2018/jun/03/surviving-cancer-is-an-ongoing-journey-of-readjustment-not-a-bumper-sticker

A little extreme, but accurate in how it feels late at night when everyone is asleep and you are left alone to your thoughts with SportsCenter running in the background.

Fear

When ever the grand kids get injured, the Miyoshi side reminisces about their injuries.  Each one has a scar to prove out their story.  But it always comes to the story of Todd and his daughter Michelle that does not involve physical injury.  When she was young she got a hold of a pair of scissors and cut her hair under Todd's watch.  His story was he only turned his back for two minutes.  It looked so bad that even a attempted hair cut by the family hair dresser couldn't fix it.

What we laugh about was that it was the only time his brother Cliff witnessed fear in Todd.     This is the guy who was fearless on the football, rugby and la cross fields of division 3 NCAA against guys bigger, quicker and stronger than him.  How does he face his wife Erin who cried when she saw Michelle's do it herself trim?

Jared did something similar, but we ended up laughing more than anything else.  The hair cut required a #0 hair trimmer guide Marine style.  Cousin Michelle already had set the precedent and buzz cuts on a boy is no comparison to a young girl's beautifully cropped hair with gaps.

Of course none of these events that occurred to the Wada boys were ever on my watch,  knock on wood.  Wait, we are soon traveling to Texas to watch the grandsons.  Cross my fingers......

In Recognition Of

To commemorate my 1 year check up from Colon Cancer: 6 Silent Symptoms of Colon Cancer:

http://www.msn.com/en-us/health/medical/6-silent-symptoms-of-colon-cancer-you-might-be-missing/ss-AAoPB3U?ocid=ientp


And the American Cancer Society now recommends that Colon Cancer Screening should now start at the age of 45.

http://www.businessinsider.com/colon-cancer-screening-guidelines-2018-5


And lets not forget the Quadruple Bypass event of 2011
This one tends to be a little obsessive as everyone experiences at least one of these symptoms,  But if you are experiencing multiple warning signs, please schedule that Cardiologist appointment.

http://www.msn.com/en-us/health/medical/20-warning-signs-your-heart-sends-you/ss-AAqfZku?ocid=ientp

Wada Tradition part 2

Just when you thought it was a fluke of nature.  #2 ran into a closet door requiring 2 stitches.  Apparently due to the location and position, the Urgent Care folks had to secure #2 to keep him from moving around.  It looked like something out of a Frankenstein movie.  I'm guessing I can post because they were posted on Facebook.

Of course Grandpa and Grandma sent more bandaids and a more things to cuddle for comfort.   This time he actually has a boo boo to cover.  Thank goodness for Amazon Prime.

Jeff now has to consider opening a family account with the Urgent Care center or think about acquiring the naming rights to the building.  Wada Urgent Care?  

It is noted that both accidents occurred during Jeff's watch.  Hockey helmets are on order.

Uncle Jordan still claims the record for # of stitches.  

Confession

I just read a previous post on the Honorable Rice Pot and looked at the posted picture.  It is the same one used in the promotional materials of the video I created, the Traveling Rice Pot.

I cheated.  If you look closely, the aluminum teflon coated 3 cup inner rice pot was inserted into the rice pot.  I had cooked the rice and didn't want to take the time or effort to cook it the retro way.

It was corrected in the video.  All rice shown was cooked in the pot.  The hard part was finding a wooden shamoji (rice paddle).  Auntie Yoshi, naturally still uses one.  Now, shamojis are plastic with holes and bumps to prevent the rice from sticking to it.  At home, we have a pink rice paddle, one that stands up on the end of it's handle, and one shaped like a Mickey Mouse white glove. I'm now looking for a non cancer causing asbestos heat insulating pad.  The family used to remove the pot from the stove and place it on a asbestos pad to rest for about 5 minutes..

Just a FYI, there are numerous posts on the internet on how to cook rice in a pot on the stove.  Up until I had inherited the rice pot, I had forgotten you could cook rice without an electronic cooker.  Google 'How to Cook Rice'.

Note:  For those of you that have seen my video, No I haven't heard from my Aunt yet on the last clip.  For those of you that haven't seen it, I will post a link later.  There are issues that I need to clear up on posting with Visual Communications.

Modern teflon coated pot inserted into the Yokoi rice pot.

Cooked rice in the Yokoi rice pot.

Collection of rice paddles, with bumps, holes, slots, color, standing and Mickey Mouse glove.

Perspective

The one problem with being a part of the Digital Histories program, is that they keep referring to us as Senior Citizens with a "rich" history.  When did I become a Senior Citizen?  When do I get accustomed to the label?  When do I embrace my status as a Senior Citizen?


This sums up how I feel.

Heart and Soul

The video on the family rice pot was shown this past weekend at the Aratani theater in Little Tokyo.  It is a little strange viewing it in a large theater and listening to the reaction of the audience to various portions of the video.  On mine, it was laughter at various points that I didn’t anticipate.  The reaction would sometimes masked the ongoing dialog.

Of course there is always sacrifice in what you present.  Time is a factor, pacing, matching dialog to pictures, etc.  Ken Burns I am not.  But I guess everyone has a point of view.  I just got to see mine on the big screen. 

The end result?  I guess in some ways it is a validation of what my vision is.  Being able to nudge me as motivation to proceed.  I still want to document pastor’s stories looking back from their “retirement”.  I want to also document Asian basketball stories.  Both are integral to the JA community.

The Digital Histories program is in limbo.  They are seeking sponsorship to continue the program.  This showing was the most viewed and hopefully has influenced sponsors to continue the program.  VC has been phenomenal in their sponsorship and support of the program.  They treat us in the DH program like all the other professional film makers struggling to create their visions.  But I now understand how they keep telling up that our perspective is different and valuable as “seniors”.  What I produced would have been completely different if the younger generation produced it.

Which brings me to the heart of the program.  I am one of the younger ‘seniors” in the program.  It is the older participants that are the heart and soul of Digital Histories.  They are the ones seeking the stories that are vanishing, they are the ones with their iphones, not afraid to create their film to tell their stories.  Those of us more technically adept can be produce slick, polished projects, but it is the raw stories and videos that hit the heart the most.  Without them, the program is hollow and empty in emotional content.

Hey Wada! Productions was named due to the unique Wada experience.  As stated in a previous post, we are somehow called by our last name.  And to get our attention, it is often “Hey Wada!”    Go figure. 

Remembering

I was sitting with my cousin Jon the other day and he reminded me of my dad's proclivity to purchase an odd assortment of cars.  There was the Rambler that never quite ran well, the Dodge Pioneer with push button transmission buttons, the Dodge that barely made it up the hills of Seattle, one of the first Mazda rotary engines that ingested ash from Mt. St. Helens and the Opel Cadet that had no acceleration.  Try driving the Opel onto Washington State highways with short on ramps.

When we moved him down from Vancouver Wa. to Los Angeles, there were at least 10 copier paper boxes of toothpaste.  Any time there was a sale, apparently he bought toothpaste.  I always assumed it was a by product of his upbringing when supplies were scarce.

In my youth there were adventures in the garage.  It was filled with so much stuff, I created tunnels to crawl through.  A two car garage with no room for a car.  I guess that is why we had a carport.  As I set out to find stuff in my garage, I find myself navigating through stuff like i did when i was young.

Dad had loyal friends.  Friends from the Army and Japan.  Recently I attended a funeral of an old Army buddy of his from MIS interpreter school.  To this day his sons reminisce about how their dad would talk about their friendship.  His friends would come by and tell stories of how he would buy food and supplies from the Army PX and distribute it to people he knew in need during postwar Japan.  They were fiercely loyal to him in friendship.

There are some things I inherited from my parents, both good, bad and strange.  I find in myself more of the strange traits than good.

Film Making is Suffering

I have been for the last two years been taking a senior digital histories class in little Tokyo.  My friend Robert convinced me to try it.  Last years project was turned in late due to the process of Chemo was affecting my output.  I did it on the Basketball Referee group that I belong to.  It did not turn out to my liking but I submitted it anyway.  It was the victim of too many technical errors, and essentially a talking head type doc that lasted 5 minutes.  The subjects deserved better.  It is my hope that sometime in the future, I can fix it.

This year was another late submission, mostly due to my method of creativity and procrastination.  My primary method is to collect everything, then put it together.  In video, that is a recipe for disaster.  You will forever be collecting material,  for every 10 seconds, you will probably be collecting 2 hrs. of video.

The other problem, is that no matter how many times you look at the video, you attempt to tweak it.  When you tweak it, it either creates problems in the overall flow or you just screw something up.  I do both.  I don't know how many times I tweaked a picture or video then screwed up the audio.  Most of the time, accidentally deleting portions and having to recreate it.

The other major problem is that my peak creativity hours are between 10pm and 2am.  That does not bode well for those of us still working for a living.

Not being one of the using the conventional methods of story telling, I decided to tell a story of the life witnessed by a rice pot.  What drove me there was that my main subject was not willing to be video taped and my recording of the interview was technically a disaster. 

Therefore I decided to write a script, have it recorded, insert photos and short video clips to fill in the corresponding visual component. 

In spite of the torturous process, what drives me is to tell people's stories.  There is a quote from president Bill Clinton:   “ I learned that everybody has a story but not everyone can tell it”. I have always believed that but it is a matter of getting them to tell it. I soon found that there are more stories out there than I can document. It is overwhelming at times as I create my wish list folks I would love to interview and tape.

Modern technology has now made it possible for old hacks like me to easily record and create videos. All modern digital cameras have video capabilities, and actually some of the classmates used their iPhones with amazing quality. Macs come with the program iMovie that make editing easy and powerful.  You Tube gives unlimited access. Seniors have a great warped perspective on life and it shows in their work.

So this is what I'm doing. I may not be a great videographer, but at least the story can be viewed.

Anti-Social Social Media

I got duped into joining Facebook years ago.  It was required to view some posted photos.  I ended up posting a few pictures of the grandson 4 years ago and been inactive since.  I didn't want to reveal much about my life, but willing to venture into others.  I find a lot of pictures of food and the positive snapshots of people's lives.

I was doing fine until I decided to post a picture of myself.  Why, I don't know.  I needed to find a picture for my video promotional material and decided to include it in my Facebook page.  Little did I know that once you post something new, it goes out to everyone on your friend's list.  That is another story.  So my question to my computer programmer son was how do you post without it going out announcing the changes?  His answer, you can't.  You can limit it to selected folks, but you can't stop it from announcing your new post.  He reminded me that it is called social media, not anti social media.  Hmmmm.

What brings up the subject is that I am contradictory in my peculiar preferences.  I am in a senior video class where your final projects are viewed at a film festival in a theater on a big movie screen.  Now I spent a lot of time on the project, developing a script, researching online archives, asking relatives for family photos, etc.  Then came the process of combining all the components into one video film about six minutes long.

The purpose is two fold, to document people's stories and to show them publicly.  The ultimate goal is to have them shown at other festivals.  I spent the time making the video, but am reluctant  to have people view it.  It is bad enough I have trouble viewing it in a theater.  Something about not being totally satisfied with the film and knowing where all the flaws are.  During the creation process, no matter how many times you view it, you will always find a flaw to fix.  Then there are those you just can't fix.

So why create it if you don't want people to view it?  Welcome to my life.

Wada Tradition

Well, another Wada tradition has been passed down to the next generation.  I should probably qualify that statement.  The Wada tradition is probably more of a Wada-Miyoshi tradition.

Saturday we received a text with a picture of the grandson with a gash in the head.  Apparently a collision with a dresser handle.  His mom posted the picture in black and white and had folks guess how many stitches it would require.

The Miyoshi text trail exploded.  Each of his uncles and his father have been there and each with their version and number of stitches.  There was a time where we speculated that they were going to name the ER after us due to the number of visits.  And the questions of how it happened without us, the parents being there to verify the account of how it happened.  Then Grandma’s siblings poured in with their ER visit and stitches.  

It was pointed out that if it was a contest of the number of stiches, Gayle reminded everyone that I won.  We just don’t know how many it took to sew my chest up after open heart surgery.  Ouch.  Camden had 4 stitches, did not cry, and is running around with a bandied on his forehead for at least a week.

I was going to post a photo of the gash, but after cropping and converting to black and white, it still gives me the creeps......

Accumulation

It has been a tough few months.  Since December I have been spending my Sundays cleaning out my mom's house.  After about ten years since she has passed, we (the trust) are selling the house.  It amazed me as to how much stuff can be accumulated even after years of removing stuff.  It seems as if every time I look into a corner, I find remnants of my mom.  Weekly I go through and take notes as to what needs to be done.  Yard work, misc. things throughout the house.  And yet I always find something left behind.

I live in a small house in Torrance.  It was the trade off of location, close to work, nice city and barely affordable.  Yet as time went by, it is full of stuff from years of collecting by a Teacher and Engineer.  Not to mention sports, Scouts, school, church, Indian Guides and any other activity. The youngest son had a reputation of having access to anything needed.  Friends would ask to borrow something, he would come home and we would rummage through the house and garage.  Seldom did we not find what would suffice.

This brings us to son number two.  The newly anointed lawyer.  As he helped me finish one of the last tasks of replacing the non functioning rollers on the sliding glass doors, I promised him that when the house was sold, the next project will be our house.  The goal is to not leave stuff (he uses a different term) where he will have to rent a dumpster to empty the house.

Of course that means letting go, of my stuff.  The hard part is not letting go, but giving up the notion that someone can use the item.  Trash it?  The Salvation Army won't take it?  It is way out of date? It's a family heirloom (OK, that may be stretching it a bit), give up my tools? She hasn't taught that grade in 10 years,  but it is still usable!  And as soon as I get rid of it, I or someone else will need one!!!

OK Jordan, I will earmark in my will, money in a hidden bank account to rent two dumpsters.

Celebration

As of one year ago today, I completed 8 rounds of chemo therapy.
     
      No more infusions.
      No more pills that make you cringe.
      No more pills to counteract the other pills side affects.  
      No more hanging onto a toilet.
      No more bottles of left over prescriptions.
      No more ginger candy.
      No more meeting my deductible the first week of January.

My Star Wars pill carrier now stores my wireless mic.

Celebrating with FaceTime with the Grand kids.  Here's to being cancer free.

Short Term Memory

The main purpose of the blog is to give me a vent to express myself.  The second is to document my life's events so I can go back and refresh my memory.  I don't readily remember a lot of what I went through with my battle with cancer or I should say remember the emotional factors.  The memories and feelings come flooding back as I read the past posts.

The memories come flooding back when I come across someone who went through or is going through similar experiences.  Cancer is specific and not universal.  My colon cancer experience is definitely different than those who have breast cancer.  But the fear is the same.

When I refer to memories, they are not just a recollection of events.  But they are deeply tied to emotional feelings.  The early mornings where I can't sleep and in bed sitting up brings back not just the memories, but that desolate feeling of isolation.  Hearing someone describe chemo brings back the roller coaster of feelings.  Seeing a commercial for Neulastra brings back memories of waiting for the module to click off.  There are at times the neuropathy reminds me of the Chemo process, but only when it flares up.

It seems distant, but recently too many triggers have brought back the fear.

The Little Guys

The Grand sons were here for two weeks and just left for home yesterday.  It was exhausting, but worth every second.  There are a few observations:

      Pokemon is still alive and well.
      Digimon is making comeback.
      4 year olds are tall enough for Space and Splash Mountain.
      2 year olds have an insatiable appetite (Blueberries are a favorite).
      Nerf Gun Darts hurt.
      Amazon Prime did not disappoint.
      Legoland is not that much cheaper than Disneyland.
      Wada Miyoshi genes produce dense offspring (body density).
      #1 Grandson frustrates Grandma when he can outperform her K students.
      Two grandsons with four uncles are a lot of testosterone.
      You are unlikely to win a argument with a two year old.
       Face time is no substitute for an actual hug.
   

The Senior Phase

I admit I try to avoid the subject of Faith in this blog, but something hit a nerve.

A friend recently voiced that our age bracket has been marginalized by society.  We are no longer the focus or a desired group other than for AARP, Pharmaceuticals and Help, I've fallen and I can't get up.  That came to light recently when visiting Legoland with the family and grand kids.  We were not allowed to drive home due to our age (old, tired, night time).  Ouch.  OK it was nice to sit in the back and talk to the grand kids and nap, but really?

Then came the news that a Pastor we know was guided to retirement.  This was not his intention at this time.  He is not the first that we know of.  The church is in transition and needs the guidance of younger pastors.  We felt that at our son's former church, where we were by far the oldest and a small minority.  The church focus was definitely not on our age group, nor valued other than as advisers in life.  The church was founded as a young congregation and their focus changes as the leadership age.

My demographic within the Asian American Christian community is fading.  What do you do with those old folks?  These are the folks that was part of the Asian American church movement of the 70s.  Camps and community bible groups, a movement that attracted other Asians looking for a more contemporary church not bound by cultural restrictions, worship songs that challenged the stodginess of organ driven Hymns.  They transition to the Prime Timers Social group with monthly social events and seminars on retirement.

I found that at a previous church, I avoided the "contemporary " second service due to the volume during their praise worship.  My ears started to ache and the only solution was to wear ear plugs.   The volume of the electric guitars and the impact of the drums drove me out.  Apparently youth praise songs only are effective at loud volumes.  Rock on. I was being forced to the traditional service.

I acknowledge that I am out of touch with the current church, I no longer recognize any of the praise songs, only when an occasional hymn has sneaked in with a up to date arrangement.  The songs we grew up with during our youth are non existent.  It's as if they never existed, and that the youth movement towards Asian American Christianity that the Japanese American Church pioneered is only a memory.  I need to dig out my JEMS CD on old worship songs.

So what do you do with us now?  I am not willing to transition to senior socialization.  Where is the our place in the body of the church?   Are we like the appendix, removable with no real function?  I always believed in the multi generational church.  I never did like the separate "youth oriented" group within a church.  But if you believe in that model, how do you integrate into a changing congregation?

Last time I read the Bible (I admit it has been some time) I don't remember the part where we retire from Christian service.  So what do we do with these retired pastors?  Are they destined to minister to the Seniors group?  Some end up teaching Bible Study (Ron Matsuda at Gardena Valley Baptist is a great example).  Have you met a retired Pastor?  They are not retired.  They still yearn to serve God, they still yearn to minister to those in need.  They do not give up on sharing their faith.