Japanese Morning TV

One of my favorite things in Japan is morning television. Morning shows in Japan only last about 15 minutes each, presumably so one doesn't have to miss the end of a show when they rush out to catch the train. The shows are an interesting combination of the absurd, the useful and the informative.

The channel I watch includes a morning exercise program where pretty girls in leotards lead the audience in a series of movements that involve lots of arm swinging and deep knee bends to a cheerful piano accompaniment.

That's followed by an angry looking bunny that explains the meaning behind acronyms such as IMF, OPEC and APEC. There's a cooking show with a girl dressed as Strawberry Shortcake, the doll not the dessert, and then comes what my younger son calls the Cabbage Patch Kids. Their show is a series of shorts and skits that on this morning included an animated tour of internal organs.

Everything is presented with a cheerful tone and an abundance of cuteness. It might seem silly, but it beats the gossip ridden excuse for morning television in the United States.

Due East

Well, it's happened. The State Department has recalled all those evacuated from Japan in wake of the triple-threat disaster, earthquake, tsunami and a nuclear disaster that now rivals Chernoble. The boys are relieved to be going back, and I'm preparing for a major transition as I get ready to go with them.

In my head I'm already making lists of everything I have to do: finish up journalism assignments and consulting work, change addresses for major bills, set up mail forwarding, cleaning Jada's kennel and getting her health certificate, getting the house ready for someone else to stay here, disassembling and shipping my bike, packing and shipping boxes of what I think I need to take with me, stocking up on things I know I can't get there easily such as Mexican herbs and spices and Polenta, it goes on.

The other important thing I have to do is find a news outlet here who may want to use me while I'm there. At least now I know what I'm going to report on.

I like a change of scenery from time to time. I especially like living other places as opposed to visiting them. My theory is this: to really get to know a place, you need to live there through at least one change of season. Only knowing a place in one season, doesn't allow you to see how the people or the landscape change.

I know my kids are anxious to get back. I'm just anxious in general. I have a lot to do in a short amount of time and currently have no prospects for work once I get there. Makes for an interesting ride.

Jack Can Keep his Limbo Stick! Kids evacuating from Japan

It has been more than a week since my kids experienced the most powerful earthquake ever recorded in Japanese history. They have weathered the disaster fairly well.

First of all, they have been reasonably safe the entire time. Being on a U.S. military base has it's advantages: power, gas, clean water, and an unbroken supply line. But as much as they have tried to go on as though it's situation normal, that is of course impossible. Continued aftershocks, cancellation of base activities and rumors of evacuation permeate their existence. Meanwhile I'm about 6000+ miles away simmering with concern and wanting them home.

Voluntary evacuations have begun, but getting them home is a challenge, even with a friend willing to escort them across the Pacific. So for the moment they wait. Their bags are packed and paperwork is completed, but they have to wait for the powers that be to figure out how to get hundreds of U.S. Government dependents, military and otherwise to multiple destinations. While they wait today, they will go back to school which has an increasing number of empty desks of other kids who have already managed to get out with their families.

Friday in California, Saturday in Japan

I called the boys the next morning, their time, which was about 3:00 p.m. my time. I tried to avoid calling to early. I wanted them to sleep. The worst I hoped, was behind them.

When I finally did call, I was able to get through on the land-line. The kids both woke up antsy. Wyatt hadn’t heard from his (not) girlfriend who was on a field trip with the school band. He called her phone repeatedly, but couldn’t get through. Nolan, who is a little high strung anyway, was pacing the room. I myself, was still a bit shaken from what I had seen on the news. The full gravity of the initial reports were starting to sink in.

It’s hard to be away from your kids who are stuck in a situation that is completely out of your control. But for the moment, I did what I would have done if I were there.

“You know what would make mom feel better?” I asked Nolan.
“What?”
“I’d like you to make a survival pack with everything you would need to survive for a day or two, like we do on the Playa.”

My kids have been attending Burning Man since they were 8 and 5 years old. They know how to survive in extreme conditions. I gave them a quick list of what we normally carry: water, electrolytes, enough snacks for 24 hours, something warm to wear, bandanna, hat, flashlight, multi-tool, etc.

My husband made a trip to the commissary to get a few essentials that they didn’t have on hand, and each of the boys assembled their own pack. It made us all feel better knowing if they needed to, that they could grab it and go. It also reminded them that they have skills for stuff like this.

The rest of the day (for them) was spent at home. I did some work and then went out with a friend for drinks at a local tavern. Wyatt finally heard from his friend after several tense hours and dozens of calls to her mobile phone. She and the rest of the band members were on the bus working their way back through Tokyo traffic.

It wasn’t yet clear what would happen next, but for the moment I knew my family was safe, and for the moment that was enough.

Witnessing Japan's Disaster by Skype

When I saw words “Major Earthquake in Japan” appear in my TweetDeck window, I reached for my phone. But before I could even find the right number to call, a Skype window opened on my computer. It was my family calling me to say that they were OK.

My husband, who works as a Department of Defense civilian, is assigned to Yakota Air Force Base in Fussa which is a suburb of Tokyo. They have been in Japan for about 7 months. They live on base, in military housing and the boys attend American schools there with other DoD Civilian and Military dependents. For them, it’s been like living in small town USA, except in Japan. The schools are smaller, and everyone knows each other. Kids still get excited about Homecoming during football season, hang out at the bowling alley, and have the freedom to roam the base without concern about violence or random crime.

It was late afternoon there, when the ground began to move. My kids had just gotten home from school. My (going on) 16-year-old, Wyatt was famously peeing when the quake hit. At the time, he was quite proud that he didn’t miss the bowl. My other son, Nolan, who will be 13 in June, said he was lying on the floor presumably watching TV, when the house began to move back and forth.

We knew it was bad, but had no idea how bad it would get. They were shaken up, but there was no damage. Their dad, who had come home to check on them, went back to work, and I stayed on Skype with the boys. We chatted nervously about the quake and their school day. Wyatt was trying to reach friends to find out about a soccer game that they planned to attend, but phone service, including mobile phones was down. Internet was the only means for communication on base and otherwise.

I flipped through cable to see what was happening and as the pictures began to stream in, I warned Wyatt that the soccer game may be cancelled. “They’re not going to cancel soccer,” he said incredulously.

We decided to watch TV together, and just as we settled on a news channel that we could watch simultaneously, the first live images of the tsunami began to emerge. I didn’t even identify it as water at first. It looked like a black blob oozing across a Japanese countryside. Denial immediately set in as I told myself that maybe there would be a minimal loss of life since the destructive wave seemed to be in a rural farming area. But the water kept coming. It swept up cars, and semi trucks and then houses and buildings.

As we watched the tragedy unfold, I also watched over my kids as they sat together on the couch, and I realized how lucky I was to live in such an age where such things are possible. Had I not been able to do this, I surely would have been far more upset than I initially was.