Rites of Passage

It's that time again. In about six weeks I will be chomping at the bit ready to go to Burning Man once again. This year the theme is Rites of Passage, interesting theme considering this is my 7th Burn. That has to mean something.

I was thinking about Rites of Passage over the holiday weekend as I watched an evening parade to celebrate the Fourth of July.

In my home town, the Fourth of July always meant a Parade, Picnic, Festival and Fireworks. From the time I was about four years old, I can remember always being in the parade. I rode on floats, roller skated, tap danced with a show troupe and marched in bands. A couple of years I rode my pink Hello Kitty bike.

When I moved away from home there were parades too. In Italy, where I was stationed as a young soldier, the Fourth of July meant standing on a parade ground, saluting as cannons were fired and then parading in step to a Sousa march. My favorite was Stars and Stripes Forever, and the first time I marched to this in uniform I admit, I was a bit choked up.

When I worked for a public access television station, I use to say that it was a lot like the Fourth of July Parade where one half of the town lines up to wave at the other half. It's a chance to say hey, this is who we are and what we are about. We're cheerleaders, and dog lovers and ballerinas and classic car enthusiasts. And when we walk down the street, showing that pride, those that recognize and appreciate it smile, wave back and sometimes applaud.

When people ask me about Burning Man, I often tell them it's a festival of self expression. Imagine the biggest Fourth of July parade ever with roaming floats, marching bands, a festival and even picnics in Center Camp. It's a place where you can display your enthusiasm if you dare. And if you are really brave you can allow yourself to display that kind of enthusiasm in the Default World as well. Now there's a Rite of Passage for you.

Where and When does the World End?

For weeks now certain Christians have been anticipating this day: May 21, 2011. An Oakland based pastor and his apostles are certain that this will be the Apocalypse, the day Jesus returns to earth, takes all the faithful with him to heaven, and leaves the rest of us to duke it out. My assumption is that I will be in the latter group.

But now, as this day has finally come, I can't help but wonder, in which time zone does the Apocalypse occur?

See the thing is, I'm currently in Japan. Here, it is 11:00 a.m. Saturday Morning. At my home in the San Francisco Bay Area, it is currently 7:00 p.m Friday, and in Jerusalem, it is currently 5:00 a.m. Saturday morning. So if the world is going to end, where is it going to end and in which time zone?

We've decided to have an Apocalypse party today with Movies like Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow, and 2012. If the world is gonna end, might as well end it with a good burger and some hotdogs.

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.

A Repatriated Routine

The boys are home. They arrived after 36 hours of travel and processing.

Repatriation is a dicey business when living overseas as a Department of Defense dependent. The boys had to have orders that authorized their travel. Multiple forms were completed, reviewed, and completed again. Security checks were done at multiple points, and finally they boarded a plane filled with other dependents, most of which were under age 10. Also on board were 60 family pets and 46 baby strollers.

The evacuees flew to Denver Colorado, where they disembarked into a hanger and were processed again for their connecting flights. At the hanger representatives from the American Red Cross, the USO and Military members from local bases handed out snacks, carried bags, and assisted weary travelers. I heard one story of a full bird Colonel who walked one dog after the other so they could "do their business." Soldiers bounced babies, and played with young kids while parents napped, and a Sergeant-Major changed diapers. My younger son received a hand knit hat from a member of the USO and bags of snacks.

Finally, after another eight hours of processing they were able to get on their connecting flight that would bring them home.

They miss Japan. They miss the culture and the food, their friends and the routine they have become accustomed to. Now we have a new routine: I pamper the boys and makes all their favorite foods. They do about 3 hours of homework a day, catch up on American TV and talk to their friends online. We all go for walks on local trails, do housework, run errands and try to simulate some temporary form of normal.

I like having them here, but they can't wait to get back to Japan.

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.

Family in Japan - What happens next

I'm not entirely unfamiliar with crisis. I was a soldier for 9 years, and one thing you learn rather quickly is if you are unexpectedly recalled, turn on CNN to see where you are going. I can still remember the night they started bombing Baghdad in Operation Desert Storm. I was in training at Fort Harrison, Indiana, and all we could do was hope for the best but prepare for the worst.

That's a mantra for the military and their families. After 9/11, we did the same thing. I was admittedly was out of practice then. I allowed myself to develop a false sense of security when my husband wasn't immediately recalled from the Inactive Reserve. Just as I had convinced my self maybe it wouldn't happen, it did, and he was gone for 2 years.

There have been other crisis since then. Their dad is no longer on Active Duty, but a Department of Defense Civilian. It doesn't change much. We generally just go with it. But this one is a little different. Usually my kids are with me, and it's my job to maintain a sense of normal for them. When they ask questions, I always answer as truthfully as I can, and tell them, "sorry guys, this is just how we live."

But this time, it's my kids who are in danger.

In truth I know that the danger is subjective. They are currently about 150 miles from the failing power plant. At the moment, their air is good, they are well supplied, and surrounded by well trained, well equipped professionals. They are also among friends, kids their own age who have experienced some of the things they have, and are experiencing this crisis with them. I think it's important that they have peers.

But I also know that if there is a melt down, that they are at the mercy of the wind. While the radiation would surely dissipate before it reaches them, there is still a threat, and that leaves me very uneasy. But it's out of my control.

So what's next? One of two things: at present the President has authorized evacuations for dependents of US Personnel. I don't know if my kids are among those who are authorized. I suspect that they are. Their dad will likely have to stay. It's his job. I get it.

If the kids aren't evacuated then I'm on a plane late next week.

The new normal in Japan and at Home

It’s closing in on a week since tectonic plates moved Japan eight feet to the west in what is now classified as a magnitude 9.0 earthquake followed by a 30 foot tsunami.

The initial relief of “OK it’s over, lets move on,” didn’t even have a half-life. This disaster started as the largest earthquake ever recorded in Japan, went on to cause a wall of water that tore a 6 kilometer path in the north, and is now posing a threat to poison thousands more with radiation from a failing nuclear power plant.

This is the new normal for everyone in Japan, including my family who is currently living there. It’s also a new normal for me, who is currently half a world away, unable to get there for at least another week. Why not drop everything and just go? Well, I was originally scheduled to go and stay about this time anyway. There’s a lot to do when you are leaving the country for a fair bit of time.

So, my new normal is based on a few things: Skype, TweetDeck, cable news and online news streams from Japan. I follow the story best I can without becoming obsessed. I talk to my kids every morning before they go to school, and stay up late so I can see them when they get home from school as well. At the moment they are on their own a lot because their dad, understandably is working a lot of overtime. I like that I can be there with them to be sure they are ok, ask them about their day, and make sure that they are eating.

The base is making its best effort to have relatively normal operations, although many activities have been cancelled. Kids are still going to school, but sports activities are currently suspended. Mandated standardized testing however is not. So as these kids watch disaster relief stream through their base and hear about the possibility of radiation plumes, they also get to be sure to use a Number 2 Pencil and avoid making stray marks on the page.

Meanwhile, I am making lists of things to get done before I leave, finding foster care for my pets and wondering what will happen next.