When I First Met My Brother-in-law

 

My wife’s sister is married to a British man and lives in London. So my brother-in-law is a British gentleman.

When my wife was still my girlfriend, I was introduced to her sister and her brother-in-law. They were visiting Japan for a short time. We planned a one-day trip. My girlfriend’s parents, sister, and brother-in-law and my girlfriend and I gathered at a bus station one early morning. I was studying English. I tried to speak with my girlfriend’s brother-in-law in English and show off my English ability to her parents. Furthermore, I wanted her to find me attractive.

I was studying American English, and her brother-in-law spoke British English. There are differences between these varieties of English. But, somehow, I was still able to communicate with him. I assumed that my girlfriend and her parents thought better of me after hearing my English. I assumed I had made it.

I got onto the bus we were traveling on. My girlfriend followed me. When we sat down she whispered some words to me. I was expecting the sweetest whisper I had ever heard. But she actually said, “Your nose hair is waving at everyone.”

Apparently, whether or not we speak English is irrelevant. When we meet people, we should pay more attention to our appearance.

Picture by watcartoon

Two Professors and their Interpreters

 

When I was a graduate student, I attended a lecture meeting. The lecturers were two professors who were both English speakers. The venue was in Japan. Simultaneous interpreters assisted us.

There were big differences between the two professors. Professor A gave us the lecture very eloquently. It was as if he was talking to us directly. Professor B gave us the lecture with the interpreters. They got along very well with each other. Professor B spoke slowly and clearly. He talked in very short sentences. Sometimes he waited for the interpreter finish the translation.

If you asked me which professor’s lecture was easy to understand, I’d definitely say Professor B’s was. Professor A’s lecture was too eloquent. I felt the interpreters were confused. I could not understand Professor A’s lecture.

I guess Professor A had little experience giving a lecture abroad or didn’t know the difficulties involved in studying a foreign language. He didn’t seem to understand how interpreters worked.

A person who works as a simultaneous interpreter can think in two languages at the same time. This is a special ability. But the person is not psychic. He or she needs some breaks in order to translate a long lecture.

About fifteen years ago, I heard that first-rate simultaneous interpreters could get paid US$ 1,500 per hour. I can’t be a simultaneous interpreter. I am not even good at simple interpretation. I just want to get paid US$ 1,500 per hour. I wish I could work for just two hours a month. And I wish I could enjoy the time left, which would be plenty of free time.

Picture by TeraVector

The Two Professors and the Suit

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I was still a graduate student, I basically wore casual clothes and worn-out shirts and jeans in the university.

One day, Professor A scolded me. “You are a graduate student, not just a student. You should wear suit and tie!”

I didn’t have any particular interest in what I wear, so I bought suits and ties. I started to dress formally in the university.

However, one day, Professor B scolded me. “Don’t try to look good! If you have money to spend on the clothes, you should buy books and should study!”

 I could understand what Professor A and B said. I really respect both of them. As a result, I wore suit and tie when I met Professor A, and I wore worn-out casual clothes when I met Professor B.

 Professor A and B taught me a very interesting lesson: if an adult male, like me, is dressed formally or casually, the reactions of the people I have just met the first time are completely different, especially in daytime during weekdays. Sometimes, the results are good. Sometimes, they are not. If only I can balance formal and casual wear effectively, it would be very convenient.

Picture by maimu

Hiding in the Toilet and Studying

 

 When I was a child, I was a sickly boy. I often caught a cold. When I caught a cold, my mother took me to the hospital that my grandaunt runs. My grandaunt was a medical doctor. She always gave me an injection. Of course, I was scared of her and I hated her. She was a doctor. I had never felt any special feeling about that, but there were many stories about her life.

 This story is not about the grandaunt I mentioned before who had Alzheimer’s disease and who I took care of. This is a different person. This grandaunt is her sister.

 When my grandaunt was younger, she wanted to be a medical doctor, but her parents (my great-grandparents) objected to it. Even now, there are many barriers to female students becoming a doctor. Lately, it was reported that some medical university in Japan gave handicaps to female students when they took entrance exams. Those days there might be a lot of barriers to my grandaunt. She studied in the toilet to hide from her parents, and she broke through all the barriers. Finally, she became a doctor. She was the very first Western female medical doctor in Aichi Prefecture. There were a lot of female doctors in Chinese medical history, so we shouldn’t define her as the first female doctor. Anyway, she had been a general practitioner ever since I can remember.

I always wondered why my mother took me to the hospital where my grandaunt worked. That hospital was a little far away from our home. We needed to take a train to the hospital. It was hard for me because I had a cold. Recently, though, I solved the mystery. My mother was a famous feminist. She respected my grandaunt. My mother paid her a visit as a form of courtesy, and they exchanged information, and she supported the hospital.

 My grandaunt had four children. All of them became medical doctors. I heard my grandaunt planned to run a general hospital with her children. Unfortunately, the children works in different hospitals in different regions now. Just like how my grandaunt didn’t grow up as my great-grandparents wished, her children also didn’t grow up like she wished.

 I just dream too. If my grandaunt’s dreams had come true, then I could also work in a general hospital as a hospital clown.

Picture by akaishi

 

Hiding the Teacher’s Tears

 

 When I was a junior high school student, I was a member of the broadcasting club. Our main activities were broadcasting music and stories during lunchtime. Moreover, when our school had events, we prepared and took care of sound facilities.

 Ms. H was a musical teacher in our school, but she was once a professional classical singer. I heard she studied vocal music in Italy.

 One day, Ms. H produced an event. Every student in our school had soprano and alto recorders for music classes. She proposed we all play one tune in the gym at the same time. The tune was one of the most popular at that time—“Silk Road” composed by Kitaro. Ms. H taught how to play the composition in musical class. Sometimes she taught individually. Finally, she made all the students play “Silk Road.”

 At the day of the event, I didn’t take part in the performance because I was a member of the broadcasting club. One of the members had to take care of sound facilities in broadcasting room. That one was me.

 After the performance, someone rushed in the broadcasting room. It was Ms. H. She started to cry. I was surprised. But I hid myself because I thought I should not watch an adult who was crying. I remained hidden until Ms. H stopped crying, and I went out the broadcasting room. I didn’t tell this incident to anyone. At least I understood Ms. H wanted to hide her tears from her students.

 Now, I am the same age as Ms. H at that time. Lately I understood vaguely why she was crying.

 A musical teacher in a local junior high school where I commuted could not be in her position. She studied music in Italy. She might have aspired to be a successful and profitable singer. But if her dream came true, she would not be able to teach the junior high school students individually. She would not be able to listen to the group performance in the gym.

 In those days, there were hundreds of students in our school. That was before the birth rate decline. The masses of students playing “Silk Road” must be a spectacle.

 Ms. H also taught songs to a chorus club in the school. Our school became famous because the chorus club won many contests. Sometimes the chorus club sang songs in Latin.

 Now, I live a life which I didn’t dream of when I was young, but I enjoy my life. Sometimes happy events happen unexpectedly.

 In movies, we always watch dream-come-true stories, but a normal life could also be dramatic.

Picture by mr jun

A Cellphone without a Camera

 Lately, I met a young person who used an outdated cellphone. I was surprised because I assumed all young people used smartphones. I asked him why. He said, “This cellphone is very convenient in my workplace.”

 He was working for a famous carmaker. The car industry is very competitive. There are many secrets in the factories. The company banned people from entering some areas with their smartphones that have cameras. His cell phone was an old one without a camera, so he could bring it to any area.

 Other workers need to go to a special department where they break the cameras of the phones. The department would signal that the cameras are surely broken, and then the workers can enter the special areas with their phones.

 He said he wanted to buy a new phone, but he couldn’t find a phone that had no camera. As an engineer, he didn’t want to break a new camera.

 Phone makers tend to create new functions, but I think they should make phones with fewer features. In Japan, there are many top-secret factories. All the workers of these factories would buy phones without cameras.

Picture by Graphs

Professor U

 

 

U is a professor at Tokyo University. When she was a graduate student in Kyoto, she attended my mother’s lectures. They got along well. Theirs was like a master-pupil relationship. A few years later, U become more famous than my mother. She published a million bestselling books and become a professor at the most reputable university in Japan. But she still respected my mother. Sometimes Professor U participated in my mother’s events or activities in Nagoya. Sometimes Professor U wrote introductions for my mother’s books. In addition, Professor U sometimes mentioned my mother’s name in the media, saying, “There is a wonderful woman in Nagoya,” or something along those lines.

A few months after my mother’s diagnosis with Alzheimer’s disease, she and her colleagues held an event in Nagoya. Professor U came from Tokyo to participate. At that point, my mother already needed my help to participate in the event. But I didn’t make an official announcement about her disease. She ran many organizations, so I just told some key persons in the organizations about her diagnosis. I thought they needed time to organize new systems that weren’t dependent on my mother. My healthy mother’s fame would give them an advantage as they created strong new systems. By contrast, if everyone knew about my mother’s disease, the organizations could lose their influence.

After the event, Professor U, my mother, and I were alone in a cab. We were headed to Nagoya station. I didn’t say anything, but Professor U figured out what my mother had from a short conversation with her. I realized she had noticed. But I didn’t say anything.

When we arrived at Nagoya station, Professor U was teary-eyed as she gave my mother a big hug. But my mother didn’t understand why she was crying. My mother and I saw Professor U off. She lived in Tokyo. She would be taking a super express train to Tokyo.

However, Professor U went in the wrong direction. She did not walk toward the ticket gate for the super express. Some people described Nagoya station as a labyrinth. It had a complicated structure. Even people who lived in Nagoya would lose their way. I thought she’d lost her way. So I almost followed her to help her. But I changed my mind. She’d just found out her master had Alzheimer’s disease. This was one of the most important scenes in her life, one she would repeatedly remember. No one had asked me to play a part in that scene. It made sense to let her lose her way: to separate from her master and lose her way.

A few years later, all of my mother’s acquaintances knew about her disease. We held an event in Nagoya. Once more, Professor U participated. The first half of the event was a speech by another professor. Professor U sat down next to my mother in the audience. She kept holding my mother’s hand during the speech.

I experienced something similar: I was separated from my master and lost my way. I visit my master’s grave every year. I feel cold when I touch the gravestone. Today, my mother could be a warm gravestone. It is difficult to communicate with her. But, if you hold her hand, at least it feels warm.

Picture by Kyoko