The New Japan: The Emotional Connection (Louis Armstrong on my mi...

The New Japan: The Emotional Connection (Louis Armstrong on my mi...: Of all the undergraduate classes I took over twenty years ago, the one that has served me the most in my adult life was a speech class. Tau...

The Emotional Connection (Louis Armstrong on my mind)

Of all the undergraduate classes I took over twenty years ago, the one that has served me the most in my adult life was a speech class.  Taught by my favorite professor, he challenged me to talk to people whose opinions differed from mine. 

"Convincing someone who doesn't agree with you to listen, and then actually hear your point of view is a skill you will need."  How right he is.

I'm not referring to conversations like the one I had recently where I told a friend I couldn't bake apple cinnamon muffins at home because my husband didn't eat them.

"How can he not like apple cinnamon muffins?"
"It's not that he doesn't like them.  He's trying not to eat baked goods.  If I bake them, he'll eat them, or so he says.  It's easier if I just don't make them."
She understood.  Many forty-four year old men are watching their waistlines.  Point made, point taken.

Sitting across from the founder of the volunteer organization I worked with back in the spring, I held my response to a comment he made.
"I hope people like you will find it in their hearts to take a month off from work and go volunteer somewhere."
I didn't think I could say to him "That won't be happening with me."  I did not go to Japan on a whim.  I went to volunteer in late March in areas affected by the earthquake and tsunamis because it was Japan.  The floods raging Thailand?  I won't be going there to help.  I'm sorry.  I really am.  Not sorry enough to spend money out of pocket to go, but sorry nonetheless.

I went to Japan because of my emotional connection to the land, country, and people.  It was my home.  Japan matters to me.  Just as the natural disaster in Thailand matters less to me, the events on March 11 do not matter to most people.  This painful realization is my the latest fact I struggle with.  If I can't and won't go to Thailand to help them, how can I expect those who share no emotional connection to Japan to keep helping?

The answer lies in Greece.  Asia does not have a "Union" the way Europe does.  To assume and believe the economic crisis Japan is now experiencing does and will not affect the rest of the world, this I argue against vehemently.  Just today NPR reported Honda's production has decreased by over 50% since March and its exports are down over 15%.  Not buying a new car any time soon?  So be it.  This is just one example of how Japan's economy can affect you.  Extend this problem out several years and not only will we see a decrease in products made in Japan, if Japan becomes less of a consumer powerhouse will that not in turn affect the world's economy?

Europe may or may not bail out its neighbor to the south.  The economic woes of Greece, however, have affected the European Union.  Who will bail out Japan?  What will Japan's economic woes do to the rest of the world?  To you?  To me?

Louis Armstrong is quoted as saying, "There are some people that if they don't know, you can't tell them."  This statement has been not only on my mind since March, it has become my mantra I struggle against.  How do I talk to those who have no emotional connection to Japan and get them to care?  I am no economist.  I am no banker.  I can't espouse theory and rhetoric that will make people change their beliefs.  Is Louis Armstrong right?  Am I doomed?  Is it truly impossible to convince people who "don't know"?

I think back to my speech class.  Having tried many of the tactics taught me, I come away with mixed results.  The answers on how to talk to people who don't "get it" elude me while my emotional connection to Japan remains strong and real.  A most frustrating conundrum, indeed.

The New Japan: The Pachinko Problem

The New Japan: The Pachinko Problem: Men, or so I'm told, measure much of their worth from how well they are able to provide for their families and loved ones. Not being a man,...

The Pachinko Problem

Men, or so I'm told, measure much of their worth from how well they are able to provide for their families and loved ones.  Not being a man, this is not a given for me.  Assuming there is truth in this statement (the fact men derive pride out of how much they make--not the part about me not being a man) there is now a new problem in Tohoku for many of the men there. 

The damage done on March 11th can be measured by loss of buildings, property, and lives.  Lost also were jobs.  Simply put, there is no easy solution.  "Go find another job" is neither welcome nor helpful advice.  Lack of employment opportunities and what this is doing to the morale of men was one of the topics on hand at a gathering of locals I attended recently.

It is always an honor to be invited and included.  To say people in Tohoku value community is the positive spin on what I could just as easily describe as an "insular subculture."  Outsiders are just that.  We are from the outside.  I could live an hour away and I would not be "from here."  That I am from outside of their immediate town, prefecture, Tohoku region, and country makes me the ultimate in outsiders.  That they let me in holds that much more meaning.  I'm humbled.

The dinner party, an excuse to drink really, is held at a local restaurant where we've met before.  The usual gang trickles in one at a time.  Every time the door opens and another pops his head in, each man with a grin bigger than the one before, the crowd at the table cheers and we argue over who sits where.  It's musical chairs, grown-up style.

Settled in, conversations take place between two here, three there.  Facebook is the topic of discussion tonight.  Who's on, who's not, why, why not, chiding those don't know how to use their Smart Phones to keep up with "the younger generation."  The mention of the "young ones" is evidently a sore spot with one, the eldest of the gang, and suddenly the tone and mood at the table changes.

"It's embarrassing," the leader of the group says.  "You know, these young guys, they have unemployment benefits right?"   Others nod.
"I know what you're going to say."  I catch Yoshi-san's eye as he looks first at the leader and then around at the others.
"What?"  I don't know where this conversation is going.  I can't read him.  "What are you talking about?"
The leader looks at me.  "Pachinko."
"Facebook is good, all right?  It keeps people talking.  It's a communication tool.  It's not a waste of money or time.  We can keep in touch with people like you."  Here, he points to me.  More nodding.  "Pachinko?  These guys, these young guys.  Who knows.  Maybe they know about Facebook.  Maybe they don't.  I'm all for new technology, see.  But, these young guys who hang around Pachinko parlors wasting their money because they can't find work and they feel sorry for themselves because there are no jobs here.  It's embarrassing.  This isn't who we are.  We're not lazy.  We work hard around here.  These guys.  They make us all look bad."
Everyone is silent for awhile.  I'm still confused as to how we went from Facebook to the evils of Pachinko and the young men who waste time and money on it, but I know to keep my mouth shut.
"There are no jobs," the leader says.  "Right?"  He looks around.  Everyone nods.  I do, too.
"But, Pachinko?  Pachinko?  It's been seven months.  They need to move on.  Move away.  Go down to Tokyo or Osaka.  Get a job there.  Sure, it will be hard to be away, but this Pachinko problem."  He shakes his head.  "It's embarrassing.  There are limits, you know?  It's been a rough year but to sit in those Pachinko palaces day after day throwing their money away because they don't have a job.  This isn't who we are."

There is evidently a real Pachinko problem in various cities and towns along the coast where the tsunami did so much damage.  The underlying cause of this new phenomenon isn't truly Pachinko.  It's unemployment.  It's boredom.  It's the fact that men who want to work can't without making large and painful sacrifices.

We didn't solve the Pachinko problem that night.  We weren't trying, I suppose.  I left the party happy to have seen them, happy to have one more Facebook connection, and profoundly unsettled.

The New Japan: The Sound Princess and energy conservation

The New Japan: The Sound Princess and energy conservation: It all started sometime during the 1980s. Somewhere along the way, women in Japan decided it was too much to hear bathroom noises made by o...

The Sound Princess and energy conservation

It all started sometime during the 1980s.  Somewhere along the way, women in Japan decided it was too much to hear bathroom noises made by others.  Natural bodily functions, yes.  Did that mean we all needed to hear them?  Evidently not.

Women started flushing the toilet to cover up their sounds.  Flush once to cover, flush again to, well, flush.  The consequences?  Water usage spiked.  Women, en masse, began using double their normal water consumption level, at least in bathrooms.

Puzzled bureaucrats, or so the story goes, did a study.  Somewhere along the way, some brave woman must have told these men who cocked their heads that she may know the answer.  The result?  New commodes with Sound Princesses.

I may not have all the facts straight in exact sequence, but the gist of the story is true.  Toilets in Japan are heated, spray "front and back," cover up odor as well as sounds.  Some toilets have lids that open automatically.  The sounds made while women do their business range from an automated, electronic flushing sound to gurgling brooks with chirping birds.  I kid you not.  Here's proof.

The button on the right (FLUSHING SOUND), in Japanese reads "Sound Princess."  I do love this about Japan.  No mocking, no judgment here.  I think it's fun.  I have yet to enter into the men's room in any given building to see whether or not the men's commode is labeled "Sound Prince."  Perhaps some day I will be bold enough to make that trek.

That's the history of how and why Japan's commodes have become the best in the world.  Indeed, a "normal" commode is now boring for most of us who have had the pleasure of using these fancy thrones.  The story, of course, does not end there.

Yesterday, I saw this sign for the first time ever.

This was one of those rarely-seen "normal" commodes.  The sign says, "Please refrain from flushing the toilet to cover sounds.  Please help conserve water."

Interesting.  Here is yet another example of energy conservation in light of post-March changes in how Japan has had to deal with energy usage.  All kidding aside, I do believe this is a bold move for Japan to make, considering how common place sound-eliminating bathroom etiquette has become over the past thirty or so years.  Here again is more proof of the country's efforts to join forces and maintain efforts at environmentally responsible behavior. 

The Smokers' Corner

Fact:  Japan is changing.
Proof:  Smokers are losing their "rights."

As recently as twenty years ago, smokers could light up while waiting for a train, on sidewalks, in restaurants, and in most public places.  The given, the fact that smoking was a part of the culture, wasn't questioned.  I first noticed this change, that smokers could not  pull out a cigarette wherever they wanted, as I stepped out of the arrival gate at the airport in Narita.  I knew something was different.  The air smelled different.  The cloud of smoke I was so accustomed to wasn't there.   I looked around and saw the usual crowd of smokers standing in a cluster far away from others.  Huh.  This was new.

Since that day, I have noticed continual changes in how Japan accepts, rather doesn't accept smokers.  The same crowed of smokers at Narita are now clustered inside a square box.  Sidewalks are dotted with cartoons of banned cigarette stubs.  Street signs have popped up all over Tokyo saying "keep our town clean" and "don't walk and smoke" and loud speakers announcing the evils of cigarette smoke.

Major changes like this in Japan don't take place over night.  The fact that changes have occurred to this extent is to be commended.  The good news is, if smokers can be relegated to a box, a corner, a section of the office, then pretty much anything is possible here.  I don't say this lightly.  Smoking in Japan was a normal part of life.  That it is not today is huge.  Facts like this beg the question what else is possible in Japan?

The New Japan: "We are the nicest people in Japan."

The New Japan: "We are the nicest people in Japan.": Tucked away in the foot hills of Mt. Aso in Kyushu is a village. Called Yamaga , it's written as "mountain deer." True to its name, deer p...

"We are the nicest people in Japan."

Tucked away in the foot hills of Mt. Aso in Kyushu is a village.  Called Yamaga, it's written as "mountain deer."  True to its name, deer pop in and out of the town along with, or so the stories go, boars and monkeys.  Here, you will see the quintessential old Japan.  It's quaint, beautiful, elegant in its simplicity, and according to the 70-plus year old man I met this weekend, here you will find the nicest Japanese anywhere.  I'm fully aware of the impact of that statement.  Them's fightin' words, if you ask me.  Then he tells me the story, and for the umpteenth time this year, I'm speechless all over again.  I can only agree with him.  "Yes, here live the nicest people in Japan."

It all starts with a conversation he and I are having.  Standing next to the 70-plus year old local legend is one of his many "disciples" who happens to be the fourth generation president of an artisan family making Japanese fans. 

The elderly master "we all want to emulate" (the artist-president says) digs through his bag.  I assume he's looking for business cards or something of the sort.  He pulls out his datebook and cell phone, starts skimming through the pages, and evidently finding the number looks over to his disciple and says, "Got to make this call."
"The swallow?" the artist says back.
"Yeah."

I have no idea what this conversation is about and am about to take my leave when the master says to the artist, "Tell her."
"About the swallow?"
"Right," and on cue, he starts talking into the phone.
"What's up with the swallow?" I ask the artist-fanmaker, and this is the story he tells me.

The buildings in Yamaga are old.  Big beams protrude out from under the tiled roofs, and the plaster walls are whitewashed.  Underneath one such roof in the corner between the beam and the wall was a swallow's nest.  Eggs hatched, baby swallows chirped and the locals celebrated.  More life.
"We notice these things," the artist says.
"Not like people in Tokyo."  Ouch.  Enter the master, having recently concluded his "swallow business."
"Right," he says.  "Not like those in Tokyo and Osaka.  They're not human.  Stupid people.  They wouldn't know if their neighbor was dead in the apartment next to them.  You know that, right?"
I do.  I have heard stories and read articles about bill collectors coming to apartments and after repeated visits with no answers finally get the police involved, only to find a skeleton in the bed, having been there clearly for months.  None of the neighbors noticed their neighbor's absence, although many complained of an odd smell.
"Here, see, we notice these things.  I tell you, if a cat died a kilometer from here, we'd all know about it.  Right?"  The master asks the artist.
"Right."
"Did you finish the story?"
"No.  Not yet."
"How far did you get?"
"That we knew there were babies."
"So, see," the master turns to me.  "These babies, right?  We would all watch them with their beaks pointed upwards and making these noises."  He looks up at the sky, puckers his lips and starts making chirping noises.  I try not to grin.  "And then, then, the swallows stop coming to the nest.  We're all assuming the swallow parents died and so we stand around wondering what to do, right?"  I nod.
"Then, the sparrows arrive."
"Sparrows?  Sparrows or swallows?"  I want to make sure I have my birds straight.
"Sparrows."
"But, I thought they were swallow babies."
"See?"  He's pleased I've made the connection.
"They are swallow babies.  Sparrows came out of nowhere and started feeding these swallow babies.  I had to make this call because we're telling everyone we know.  People need to know this."  Period.  End of story.  I don't know that I've ever seen a chest actually swell with pride before.  Standing in front of me, the master's chest expanded.  It's amazing to watch, really.  His chest grew.  I kid you not.
"Even the sparrows are nice here," the artist says.
"Everyone here, everything here is nice."  The master agrees.  "We are the nicest people in Japan."
He starts shaking his finger at me.  "Don't go to Tokyo.  That's not Japan.  You need to be here.  This is real.  This is Japan."  I smile and nod.

The real Japan.  I've been thinking about this story and nodding every since.  Something about this story makes sense.  Strangers helping strangers.  Sparrows adopting swallows.  It's beautiful.  That the townspeople of Yamaga take every opportunity to tell their neighbors of the sparrows' generosity is a whole new kind of beauty.

Pass it on.