Shu-ichiro

 

 

 My name is Shujiro.

 I was named using a traditional Japanese naming style. If you are familiar with the style, you could guess that I am the second born son. “Jiro” means “second man.”

　I have one older brother and no sisters.

 Japanese traditional society tended to respect a firstborn son, because he would take over his parents’ work and property. Parents tended to educate and raise the firstborn son with great care. On the other hand, sons born later tended to be looked down upon.

 My father aged and had physical disabilities. My mother had Alzheimer’s disease. My brother and I should have taken care of them together—with my brother’s cooperation. But my elder brother ran away from difficult situations. He didn’t do anything. He didn’t help us financially. He ignored us.

 I took care of my parents, living with them for twenty years. I was a teacher and a part-time stage actor, but I quit those roles to focus on caregiving. I was hospitalized a few times because of the stress caused by caregiving. My brother never helped us. I wanted to write negative things about him, but I will not. I want to keep my writing clean.

 When I started to live with my parents and take care of them, I noticed a strange phenomenon. Some people started to mistake my name. Hospitals, temples, welfare facilities, and the neighborhood started to send me mail with the wrong name: “Shu-ichiro.” Hey! My name is Shujiro!

 “Ichiro” means “first man.”

 In Japan, firstborn sons were treated as special, and in return they were expected to take care of their parents.

 I took care of my parents. People started to think I was the firstborn son. “Shujiro” is not a proper name for the firstborn son. Maybe they thought it was a mistake. They corrected the “wrong name” to the “right name,” “Shu-ichiro.”

 When we had been seeing my mother’s doctor for over ten years, I talked about my family situation with him. The doctor was surprised and shouted, “Are you the secondborn son?” He had assumed I was the firstborn son.

 I respect Japanese traditions. But sometimes traditions include negative things. Most Japanese vaguely understand that discrimination is bad. We should not judge people based on race, ethnicity, gender, or religion. But most Japanese people judge sons based on birth order.

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Pinkie

 A few years ago, I was hovering on the verge of death because of acute diabetes. My highest blood sugar level was 2154 mg/dl. My doctor made presentations at medical conferences about me.

 Now, I have recovered. I don’t inject insulin anymore. I am not on a restricted diet. I am fine.

 But I didn’t recover completely.

 Since then, I’ve been unable to get rid of the numbness in my left pinkie. Even now. It’s as if I wear a work glove just on my pinkie. My pinkie feels weak.

 Let’s look on the bright side. I was lucky. If I were a world-class pianist, it could have been a mortal wound. If I were a world-class violinist, it might have been a fatal injury.

 I use my pinkie just for typing on my computer keyboard. I have difficulty typing “Q,” “A,” and “Z.” Fortunately, Japanese language basically doesn’t use “Q.” So, in my case, I am pretty much fine.

 When I was a child, I studied the violin. I quit. If I had continued and happened to become a world-class violinist, I would have disappointed many classical music fans.

 I am happy I quit the violin. Persistence pays off, but sometimes quitting also pays off.

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International Relationships and a Restaurant

 Once, I needed to entertain a business partner. I invited her to a restaurant.

 Inviting an important person to a restaurant is not easy. An expensive, high-class restaurant is not necessarily the best option. The important person would worry about me, so it would not be a smart move.

 I want her to think, “Oh! I didn’t know there was such a restaurant here. It is clean, stylish, and reasonable. I want to come here again with my family or friends. Kudos Shujiro! He must know many good restaurants. I want to have a meal with him again!” This is my goal when inviting someone to a restaurant.

 I knew the best Chinese restaurant in my town. It was little more expensive than other Chinese restaurants, but still acceptable. It was also stylish and delicious. In the restaurant, they displayed the Chinese chef’s photo and testimonials. He had won many chef competitions.

 I proudly invited my business partner to the restaurant. But it had changed a lot.

 The restaurant still had the same name. It was located in the same place. Even the phone number was the same. But the interior decoration had changed. There had been a photo taken in Shanghai, but instead of that, they now displayed traditional Japanese pictures. The staff had all changed. The menu had completely changed. Most importantly, the taste had changed. I could cook better! What had happened to the restaurant!

 At that time, the relationship between Japan and China was really not good because of issues over some islands.

 This is my guess as to what had happened. The chef had left the restaurant because Japan was difficult to live in for a Chinese at that time. There was no photo of him nor testimonials to him in the restaurant. If the chef had gone, they couldn’t cook the same way. I think he left Japan. A good chef can work all around the world.

 I had invited my business partner to the wrong restaurant. However, as a result, the dinner was almost successful. My business partner said, “This is delicious!” But I knew she was lying to me. It was not delicious. I knew it. She was being diplomatic, as I was also an important business partner to her.

 I was in bed for a few days as a result of this shocking incident.

 I have a good relationship with that business partner even now. Our business is succeeding.

 But sometimes I worry she might think I have a unique sense of taste.

 Some people say the relationship between Japan and China is now at its worst. I worry nice Chinese restaurants are silently disappearing from Japan.

 If we want delicious foods, we need to maintain good relations with all countries.

 The best way to good food is peace.

 I wish for lasting peace for good food.

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Time Bomb Joke

I was a high school student. One day, in an English class, the English teacher did a mysterious thing. I have forgotten almost everything about high school, but I can remember what he did clearly.

 

The teacher wrote two sentences on the blackboard. Then he stopped for a few seconds and stood in silence. Usually, he explained the meaning of the sentences he wrote. But that time, he didn’t. Then he took an eraser and said “This is inappropriate.” He erased the sentences without any explanation. My classmates and I didn’t react. No one understood his actions.

 

For the next few years, I continued studying English. One day, I suddenly understood the sentences.

 

It had been a joke. Furthermore, it was a dirty joke.

 

We were teenagers. We had female classmates. Of course, that was an inappropriate joke in the classroom. That was a dirty joke, but it was a good example for students who were studying grammar. He wanted to explain the meaning of the sentences. But he was a teacher who couldn’t explain in Japanese. He just wrote on the blackboard for a few seconds. I think he believed some of us might keep studying English and someday would understand the joke. He wished someone would laugh in the future. That joke was for the future; it was a time bomb joke.

 

There are many kinds of jokes. Time bomb jokes must be one of them.

 

Teacher, your joke certainly worked!

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Counterattack of Marmite

 

My wife and her sister love natto. If you are familiar with Japanese food, you have heard of natto. It is a traditional Japanese fermented food. Some Japanese love natto; some Japanese hate natto. I eat natto because I have heard that it is good for your health. My wife will be in a bad mood if we don’t have natto in the fridge. Her sister married a British person. They live in the UK. He loves Japanese food, except natto.

 

A few years ago, my sister and brother-in-law came to visit our house from the UK. They brought us a nice present. It was marmite. I heard some people love marmite and some people hate marmite. It might be like the UK version of natto. I heard there are many movies on YouTube of Japanese people’s first reaction to eating marmite.

 

             I had heard and read about marmite, but that was my first time seeing it. My wife and I ate it in front of my brother-in-law.

 

Actually, it did not have a surprising taste for us. We liked the taste, but we didn’t have a strong reaction to it. If you can eat marmite, you can eat natto, I guess. I was sorry for my brother-in-law: he had brought me a special present from the UK, and I should have reacted with a noticeable change in my expression.

 

If you have never tried either of those foods, please try them and react strongly.

 

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Stumble

When I was an elementary school student, we played our very first soccer game in physical education. The gym teacher explained the basic rules of soccer, and we started to play.

Children are childish. Most of my classmates wanted to kick the ball. They crowded around it. I was a child who didn’t want to join such a crowd, so I stood alone, away from the crowd. Then, somehow, the ball rolled in front of me. I kicked it toward the goal. There was no one between me and the goal. Everyone went after the ball, but no one could run faster than it. The ball entered the goal.

My soccer experience had started successfully. I had successfully shot the first shot. That was also the final goal. After that, I never took an interest in soccer.

When I was a high school student, we played our very first rugby game in physical education. The gym teacher explained the basic rules of rugby, and we started to play.

The high school students were not so different from children. Most of my classmates wanted to touch the ball. They crowded around it. I was a kid who didn’t want to join such a crowd, so I stood alone, away from the crowd. Then, somehow, the ball rolled in front of me. I picked it up and ran to the goal line. There was no one between me and it. I scored a try.

My rugby experience had started successfully. My first try had succeeded. That was also the final try. After that, I never took an interest in rugby.

When I was an elementary school student, we had a school performance. We planned to stage The Emperor’s New Clothes. I was looking forward to the play. I memorized all the lines of all the roles. I wanted to be the emperor or the cunning merchant. But I caught a cold and was absent on the important casting day. I was given the role of a doctor. Of course, it was not an important role. I had just one line: “Emperor, do you have headache or stomachache?” Oh, that was a shame!

I continued to pursue drama in junior high school, high school, and university. Even now, I am in touch with the theatrical community. It has given me a lifetime of pressure.

When you start something, a stumble might be a good beginning.

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Guide Cat

January 2007. My cat, Mary, passed away.

Mary was born in Osaka. When I was studying in the U.S., I took her with me. So she also studied abroad. Her airplane ticket was more expensive than mine.

Then I moved back to my hometown, Nagoya, with her. I had heard that cats hated moving. I was sorry about subjecting Mary to that, but I didn’t have a choice.

One of my neighbors told me our city crematory could accept pets. I also considered burying Mary in my yard. But I reckoned that if I could hold a funeral for her in the crematory (like I would have done for a human), that might be better for her.

I could have gone to the crematory by train. But I was not sure I could take the train with a dead cat. I felt that the other passengers might think it was spooky. In the end, I decided to take Mary in my car.

At the time, I was learning how to drive. The crematory was a bit far from our house. I needed to drive through the downtown area. I was really nervous. I thought it would be a long journey.

A week later, my grandmother, who lived with me, passed away. My mother was the chief mourner. But she already had Alzheimer’s disease, so I served as the actual chief mourner.

Thus, I found myself going to the city crematory again. But this time, I was not driving the car. Rather, I was in the passenger seat of the hearse. My mother should have been in that seat. But we were worried that the hearse driver might get confused if he talked with her. And so I watched the driving from the passenger seat. The driver might have been one of the best pro drivers. His driving was safe and polite.

My grandmother had died. A week before, Mary had died. One of my neighbors said, “The path to heaven might be long. Mary left first; now she is acting as a guide for your grandmother.”

Cats are mysterious animals, so that could be the case.

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Picture by jumsica