for a mom, good therapy

Am still thinking about my daughter’s difficult circumstances to do with her broken hand. I’m sure moms can relate to the feeling of total inability to do anthing, except offer support and encouragement. If I could let her have the use of my right hand, I would. That’s a no-brainer. But it’s her hand, her life, her experience, her emotional growth and maturation.

Rather than worry about my daughter who’s beginning her journey back to recovery, I decided to devote some thought to two other young ladies, one whom I just saw today, and another whose story I read in our local newspaper.

Jennifer, my 28-year-old massage therapist, is an old soul. After seeing her for over 2 years for various aches and pains, mostly chronic fibromyalgia, I’ve come to trust her very capable hands. Her petite 5 foot stature belies the strength she brings to her massages. But as with most practitioners of alternative health, Jennifer is good therapy for my spirit as well.

In the hour we’re together, we cover many subjects of interest to both of us. They all fit under the umbrella of life lessons, it seems. Funny that she in her 20s, and me in my 60s can find so much common ground. I think it’s because she puts great stock in old-fashioned values, like working hard to achieve her goals, and prioritizing her life around her family’s health, including growing her own produce, and her love of animals, including caring for horses in her spare time. 

Cover of

Cover of The Permanent Pain Cure

At the moment, Jennifer is also working towards her certification in becoming a myofascia-release specialist. It is a form of therapy which involves the patient in the massage process. I am a firm believer in this alternative health practice after my daughter’s strained groin muscle was cured at the hands of a New York physical therapist trained in myofascia release. Ming Chu wrote The Permanent Pain Cure, which I’d read hoping it would provide the relief my daughter needed, and it did. Or rather, Chu did. 

After spending thousands of dollars toward her certification, and many hours of studying, which also includes hands-on work, Jennifer will be ble to give her clients an even higher level of relief from pain. Anticipating doing this, has her so excited. But for now she’s focused on the training that still lies ahead…an uphill climb, I’m sure she can tackle.

North Campus, Brigham Young University

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Two things struck me as relevant about the story of Rachelle Dotson. The 21-year-old is the only female from North America serving as a Mormon missionary. She requested a mission after graduating from Brigham Young University in 2008. Having studied Japanese in high school, Rachelle was sent to Japan, and was stationed 12 miles north of Sendai when the earthquake hit.

Rachelle reminded me of 3 nephews, Mormons, who served as missionaries when they completed high school. The eldest, James, spent a couple of years in Costa Rica; Tyler was in Mexico the same length of time, and the youngest, Logan, did his mission in Mongolia. I am in awe of these young people who dedicate their lives to serving others for a period of time. They don’t proselytize about their faith. They live alongside the village people doing whatever they can, and demonstrating their Christianity by example. I can imagine my sister and brother-in-law’s concern for their sons while they were away from their family. They did not, however, suffer the anxiety that befell Rachelle’s parents as they waited to learn their daughter’s fate following Japan’s natural disaster.

Kelli and Robert Dotson watched their TV in horror as events in Japan unfolded before their eyes. I can only imagine what ran through their minds. I know I would’ve been a basket case. So I was moved to read that as an after-thought, Kelli wished she’d gotten an address when her daughter had sent a brief message the week before indicating she had settled in after moving from Koriyama to Sendai. All they could do now was wait for news from Rachelle, which took 2 days to arrive.

“I’m well,” her note began, comforting her family. She then recounted her experience.

She and her companion (a girl from Tahiti) were riding their bikes when they heard the earthquake. Dismounting, the earth then shook beneath them.

“Cars beside us were bouncing and the canal on the other side was sloshing 10 feet,” she wrote. She and her companion “crawled into a field, hugged eath other and prayed.”

 

Japan Earthquake & Tsunami Damage (03RTR2JTXC)

Image by Kordian via Flickr

Waiting for further information, however, was agonizing for the Dotsons. Thoughts of her daughter suffering were especially difficult for Kelli, “until she was inspired by memories of Rachelle on her fourth-year girls’ hike.” They brought peace and comfort to her mom remembering how her daughter had “carried her 40-pound pack on her back, and her partner’s on her front, so that they could continue on without rest breaks.” Kelli realized that Rachelle “was a strong woman–physically, emotionally and spiritually,” and that she would not be a victim, but would be helping the victims instead.

Evidently Rachelle had grown very fond of the Japanese elderly, loving them as family. So she was understandably distraught at not being able to reach her dear friends, and remain to care for those in need. Although the missionaries have been evacuated from the area, Rachelle continues her work in Japan, not scheduled to return home until December 22. Meanwhile, she assures her parents she wants for nothing. But she has learned one thing as the result of her experience.

“She carries a lot of food and water with her wherever she goes…and has a bag packed of clothes ready to go at any moment.”

Rachelle told her mother she knows it’s not necessary, but she can’t help it.

So when I think of my daughter and her misfortunes, I’m reminded of others like her who are wending their way through life, with their own challenges. They’re all learning, and growing, and gathering life experiences that will serve them as they grow older…and wiser. That brings me some measure of serenity.

in the eye of the hurricane…calm…hugmamma.

 

“the ventures,” music link to japan

Classic lineup of the Ventures in Japan in 196...

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The Issaquah Press, a local newspaper, carried another “small story” with ties to Japan. This one has a unique twist. It tells of an American rock band from the 60s era that has had an enduring love affair with the people of Japan. “The Ventures, unlike perhaps any foreign musicians before enraptured Japan in the early 1960s and have remained popular in the decades since.” Member Don Wilson makes his home here on the eastside in the Sammamish Plateau. Japan’s largest public TV network requested that the musician extend a message of encouragement to the inhabitants of the island nation who continue to revere Wilson and the other band members.

Hawaii Five-O (1969)

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If you’ve no idea who The Ventures are, like yours truly, think the musical theme to Jack Lord’s “Hawaii Five-O,” and surf-rock anthems like “Pipeline” and “Walk, Don’t Run.”  Or other great numbers like “House of the Rising Sun” and “Tequila.” While their sound may have resonated sunny, southern California, the band originated here in Tacoma, Washington. Wilson’s home shelters “a Fort Knox of framed gold records,” the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame statuette bestowed upon the group in March 2008, and a medal from Japanese Emperor Akihito. The Order of the Rising Sun, Gold Rays with Rosette, has been conferred on only a handful of foreigners. In June of last year The Ventures were honored with the decoration at the Japanese consulate in Seattle, and were cited for having contributed to the “development and enrichment” of the country’s music culture, as well as “fostering ‘cordial relations’ between Japan and the United States.”

An instrumental rock band, The Ventures reshaped Japan’s pop music scene. They succeeded in part because there was no language barrier to overcome.  Scoring 20 no. 1 hits, the group also outsold the Beatles for a time, “in the electric-guitar crazed nation.” But in the days before screaming audiences, the band encountered audiences unlike those in the U.S. “You could drop a pin and you could hear it–while we’re playing …After we played, it was an eruption of applause.” According to Wilson’s son, Tim, “Japanese fans ’embraced The Ventures like no other.’ ” 

“The band continues to tour in Japan each year, and usually sells out a 3,000-person venue in devastated Sendai. …’The band played in the city almost every year for the past half-century.’ ” according to Wilson. Having played in Japan last summer, they planned to return at the same time this year. Those plans are now on hold. In the meantime The Ventures will do a benefit concert here in the U.S. to assist disaster-relief efforts.

“I’ve been doing a lot of praying for those people,” Don Wilson said. “But, actually, those people are pretty resilient, amazingly so. They’re very compassionate to each other. You know how organized they were after the disaster, lining up for food and water and things like that.”

“It’s such a cliche to say, ‘Hang in there. You just have to get through it.’ And I’m sure they will,” he said. “I’ve never seen harder-working people in my life.” 

and here for your listening pleasure………………………………………..and mine

brings back great memories of island life………………………………..hugmamma.

street newspaper: japan’s “big issue”

Street newspapers are a phenomenal, global network. I was touched to read that even in the midst of Japan‘s devastation, a street newspaper struggles to survive, its vendors dependent upon its existence, for their own meagre livelihoods. What strikes me as macabre in the aftermath of Mother Nature‘s triple threat, the earthquake, the tsunami, and the nuclear disaster, is that Sendai is now home to thousands more homeless. The following article ran in the Real Change. It gives a first hand account of the people’s attempts to recover from the horrific blow dealt them. 

JAPAN’S STREET NEWSPAPER STRUGGLES AMID DISASTER

THE BIG ISSUE JAPAN / ビッグイシュー日本版

Image by jetalone via Flickr

Vendors and staff at The Big Issue Japan are struggling in the wake of the earthquake and tsunami that has devastated the nation.

Miku Sano of The Big Issue Japan said in an email to partner newspapers that in Sendai, which bore the brunt of the tsunami, vendors survived but are unable to sell the magazine. “Things are not easy and will not be the same, but we are not defeated,” Sano wrote.

“The vendors and people in Northern cities are fighting for their lives and for the loved ones. We are trying the best we can to support them.”

Distribution of the magazine is impossible in northern cities, “hence, the vendors in Sapporo have nothing to sell,” Sano said. There are plans to re-start football practice in Tokyo, as “many of our vendors said that they want to play football to feel better.”

(If you want to contribute to the efforts of The Big Issue Japan, there is an English language site for donations: http://www.jcie.org/earthquake)

Night View of Sendai City, Japan

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Diary of a disaster
The Big Issue Japan works with the Sendai Night Patrol Group to help the homeless in Sendai City. Staff members have been providing free meals for anyone sleeping rough as the city attempts to recover from the disaster. Aoiki san, head of the patrol team and magazine distribution in Sendai, allowed us to publish extracts from his diary about the relief effort:

March 14: In Sendai, the supply of water and electricity was restored in some parts, but it will take more than a month to restore gas supply. In the Wakabayashi area, the worst affected area within Sendai city, I saw a very long queue of people trying to get half-rotten oranges and only one banana. A thousand dead bodies are left unattended in a gymnasium, and there is no information about those unaccounted for. We are planning to provide free meals of curry rice for everyone from 11 a.m. The death toll is too big to comprehend, and many people seem to know nothing about what to do.

Sendai Airport in Natori and Iwanuma, Miyagi p...

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March 15: Roads, airlines and trains are not allowed to run except for emergency vehicles, and there is the dire prospect of a shortage of goods. More than 1,000 people queued for a motorway bus. I joined a queue for Daiei Supermarket before its opening at 10 a.m., but 30 minutes after the opening, major goods had already gone. There is a shortage of gas cylinders, noodles, tinned food, batteries and rice.

March 16: Public administration is completely paralyzed. Sendai City Council opened a help desk today, four days after the earthquake. Hospitals in the city are only able to provide a partial service due to electricity shortages. Without a battery-powered radio, people are getting no information at all. Many citizens don’t know about the accidents at Fukushima nuclear plant. Local radio stations help people to find out about missing persons. Strong aftershocks at 3 a.m. and 4 a.m.

March 17: Today the local radio announced about the food at Wakabayashi City Hall, so we had to make 1,000 meals. We gave out curry, miso soup and rice for about 800 people and it was gone in a second. Some hadn’t eaten for three days and queued for the food in the rain.

I am worried becuse there’s no information about what’s going on at the nuclear power plant. I am worried about the radioactive contamination for the north Kanto region because of the north winds. There are thousands of people sleeping in the elementary schools, city halls and public halls. I will do my best to provide free meals tomorrow, although we may run out of stock if we do so.

(Translated by Mayuko Hida and Yushin Toda – University of Glasgow)       

one family’s story, japan

TV news reports are jam-packed with videos of the destruction in Japan, including snippets of interviews with those in the midst of it all. Somehow viewing the catastrophe on such a large-scale makes it impersonal, like it’s happening over there, not here. We breathe a collective sigh of relief, and go about our business. I pause every now and then unable to wrap my brain around the fact that under the same blue sky, someone in Japan is desperately trying to hang onto any visible shred of hope that she, and her family, will once again live a normal life, and here I am, living a normal life. “There but for the grace of God…”

Rather than try to retell the story of Hideo Higuchi and his family, I’m giving writer Eric Bellman that privilege since he authored “Winding Road to Reunion Bridges Three Generations,” which appeared in today’s Wall Street Journal

Ishinomaki city miyagi pref

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ISHINOMAKI, Japan–Hideo Higuchi and his wife sat in their truck, staring at the long lake in front of them. Beneath was the road to their daughter’s home.

The Higuchi’s hadn’t heard from her since Friday’s earthquake and tsunami. Water and debris had blocked the road into town. Phone networks remained down. So when floodwaters receded enough Tuesday to let them through, the couple rushed to Ishinomaki on Japan’s devastated eastern coast, where their daughter lived with her husband and three sons.

“I am not from here,” said the 70-year-old rice farmer, as his bloodshot eyes tried to measure whether his boxy white truck could make it through the knee-deep water. “I don’t know any other way around.”

Flag of Ishinomaki, Miyagi

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“What is the damage like in Ishinomaki?” his wife, Sayono, 68, anxiously asked a stranger. The Higuchis live 15 miles inland from Ishinomaki, in a small city shaken by the earthquake but unaffected by the tsunami.

The Higuchis turned their truck around. The bed of the Isuzu, emptied of the usual farming equipment, held a cardboard box of food and drinks. They were for their daughter’s family, if the family could be found.

The couple decided to try to find the primary school of their three grandsons–Ryo, 12, and the 10-year-old twins, Chihiro and Masaki. In many small towns like this one, schools are often the tallest buildings and likeliest emergency shelters.

But the Higuchis weren’t sure of the school’s name. Pointing to a map, Mr. Higuchi asked people on the street. “Is there a grade school around here? Is it an evacuation center?”

Port ishinomaki miyagi pref

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They wound through the narrow back streets of Ishinomaki, a town of 164,000 people. On the roadsides were sights rarely seen in Japan: men in military fatigues directing traffic, girls with plastic bags taped over their sneakers, old men grilling a fish over a fire in an oil can. A middle-aged woman, bowing with a particularly Japanese shame at the thought of inconveniencing a stranger, held a sign: “Please give me a ride to Watanoha.”

Mr. Higuchi stepped out of his truck and adjusted his baseball cap as he talked to some neighborhood boys. The grade school was underwater, the boys said. People there might have been taken out by helicopter.

The couple found the middle school. To search the four floors of evacuees, they split up. Each room had a roster pinned outside the door, naming the people who slept there and their age. Mr. Higuchi, with thick glasses and poor eyesight, went through more than 10 rosters.

“Oikawa…Oikawa…Oikawa,” he said repeating the married name of his daughter, Miyuki. There are a lot of Oikawas here, so his crooked fingers paused often as he went down the lists.

When Mr. Higuchi asked a cluster of kids sitting near a third-floor window if there was a grade school nearby, they answered obediently. “See that yellow building with a green roof? It’s behind there,” one boy said.

Children in Kimono, circa 1960s. In Ishinomaki...

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Beyond the yellow building was the grade school. It wasn’t underwater. It was eerily quiet. There were evacuees on the third floor, the Higuchis were told. The couple quickly walked up the steps, moving faster than they had all day. Before she finished sliding open the first classroom door, Ms. Higuchi gasped. “Ryo!” She waved her hand, apparently reluctant to enter the room. “Ryo, come here.”

It was her grandson. In the room, also, were their son-in-law’s parents. “You’re all right!” they shouted at the Higuchis.

Three adults, in a display of emotion seldom seen in Japan, jumped up and down holding hands, hugged and cried. The three grandsons were then dragged into the group hugs.

The Higuchis learned their daughter’s home had been ruined by the tsunami shortly after their daughter, the only one home at the time of the earthquake, evacuated and met the rest of her family at the school. The daughter and her husband were there now, seeing if any of their belongings were salvageable. “Thank God, thank God,” the four grandparents repeated, wiping away tears and smiling.

Mr. Higuchi brought his eldest grandson down to the truck to give him one of his favorite drinks. Ryo, wearing the bright blue gym uniform he was wearing when the earthquake hit Friday, started to sip.

“We will go meet our daughter now,” said Mr. Higuchi. Asked if he knew the way, he said, “I’m OK now. My grandson is here.”

japan, an editorial opinion

As if reading my mind, the following editorial opinion “Sturdy Japanwas in today’sWall Street Journal. I’ve reprinted it here in its entirety.

No nation escapes unscathed from an earthquake of the magnitude that struck Japan yesterday. At least 1,000 people have died. For all that damage, it is remarkable how well this island nation of more than 126 million people has withstood the fifth largest earthquake since 1900. Registering a stunning 8.9, the earthquake near Sendai produced a 30-foot high tsunami that hurtled toward some 53 countries.

Despite these powerful forces, one cannot help but note how relatively well prepared the Japanese were to survive such an assault from mother Earth. Japan stands, literally, as a testament to how human planning and industrialized society can cope with natural disasters.

A country that experiences hundreds of subterranean vibrations annually, Japan has been earthquake-proofing its buildings since an 8.4 earthquake in 1891. Until 1965, Japan limited the height of buildings to a little over 100 feet, but with the pressure of urban populations, the height limit was lifted. Japan’s wood residential houses were vulnerable to a tsunami on the coast, but its tall buildings seem to have held up well against the quake.

Minatomirai, Yokohama Japan See where this pic...

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In 1993, the Yokohama Landmark Tower was completed at 971 feet tall, a remarkable height in a country prone to serious earthquakes. It was only possible to erect such a building if one had the skills and wealth to access the most sophisticated techniques of modeling and engineering.

In late 2007, the Japanese completed the world’s most sophisticated early warning system for earthquakes, which was credited Friday with signaling Tokyo’s residents–via TV, radio and cellphone–that a quake was coming. The warning system gives industrial, energy and transportation facilities time to shut down before a quake hits. The biggest concern as we went to press was the ability to cool the reactor cores at nuclear power plants that were shut down automatically as the earthquake hit. The U.S. is sending some coolant materials.

阪神淡路大震災(東急ハンズあたり)

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Japan now faces significant rebuilding, but less than could have been expected after enduring its strongest tremblor in 300 years. We’d now expect that similar warning systems would be developed and installed in the rest of the world’s quake-prone nations.

Contrast this preparation with poor Haiti or the 2008 earthquake in Sichuan, China, which killed some 70,000 people. Haiti has the excuse of abject poverty caused by decades of misrule. China has wealth but a government answerable only to itself. Sometimes the hard phrase, invidious comparison, is apt. After its disastrous Kobe earthquake in 1995, Japan instituted a multitude of reforms.

Japan itself has experienced some bad press of late. Its economic growth is stagnant, and its inept political class has become an embarrassment to its great population of productive citizens. But make no mistake. Japan remains a great industrial power. Despite the destructive effects of yesterday’s quake, the self-protective benefits of Japan’s achievement as a modern nation was hard not to notice.

supports my theory that the japanese work hard to sustain themselves…through good times…and bad…hugmamma.

the japanese, a stalwart people

A bowl of miso soup

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My husband and I had dinner at Tokyo, a small Japanese restaurant. Some might call it a “hole in the wall.” Regular diners, like ourselves, use the phrase lovingly. In other words the restaurant’s appearance is nothing spectacular, but its food is “to die for,” and its prices are fair. My combination dinner of miso soup, salad with Japanese dressing, teriyaki salmon, California roll, brown rice and a peeled orange that was sweet and juicy, “hit the spot.” I love Japanese food, at least the westernized version of the more traditional fare.

California roll served in Shanghai, China. Pre...

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During dinner my husband asked if I’d thought about the next topic for my blog. I said “Yes, that I had.” The recent Tsunami in Japan had me thinking about its people. While I don’t know anyone who lives there, I’m well acquainted with their culture. Hawaii is a melting pot of ethnicities, Japanese being one of them. Historically they were enlisted to work the plantations, replacing the first wave of immigrants, the Chinese, who improved their lot, moving from laborers to small business owners.

Growing up among the Japanese in Maui, I saw them as a quiet, soft-spoken, hard-working people. Family and honor were important in their culture. They were leaders, for sure, but they led by example. Children knew what was expected of them, because they did as their parents did. And the adults seemed to do whatever was necessary to provide for themselves and their families, by simply doing. They grew their own produce, they fished, they opened small mom and pop grocery stores. From what I observed, the Japanese seemed a very self-sufficient people. Moreover, I never heard them complain. It seemed they felt anything was possible, if they just worked hard enough.

When learning of the devastating losses it has suffered in the wake of the Tsunami, I could only think that Japan will re-emerge strong once again, like the mythological phoenix which arose from its own ashes. It is not a nation that cries out in desperation. Instead its people will put their noses to the proverbial grindstone, and rebuild their country from the ground up, making it even better than before. If God ever imbued a people with the gift of everlasting hope, in my opinion it would have to be the Japanese.

for a country of hard-working people…hugs and prayers…hugmamma.

tsunamis, on maui

Growing up on Maui in the 50s, I can remember a couple of instances when the island was hit by tsunamis. I don’t recall, however, that they were as devastating as the one which hit Japan today.

Coquillages à Fadiouth, Sénégal

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As a toddler my family rented a large house in Waiehu, across a one-lane road from the beach. The land was flat, hills looming tall behind our home. As kids, my siblings and I spent a good amount of time playing on the beach, pocketing sea shells, chasing one another along the shoreline, and yelling our fool heads off when the cold water splashed against our bare legs. We enjoyed frolicking in the sand and the surf, while the heat of the tropical sun warmed and tanned our bodies.

I can recall one specific, sun-drenched day, when an eerie quiet hung in the air. And yet, there was a faint, far-off ringing that pierced the stillness. It seemed to come from the vicinity of the horizon. Over the period of a few hours, the entire ocean had withdrawn until it loomed ominously across the horizon line. After surveying the ocean floor, devoid of water, our family quickly withdrew to the hilltop, and awaited the inevitable.

A picture of the 2004 tsunami in Ao Nang, Krab...

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The ringing grew louder as the sea came roaring back toward land, wave upon wave seeming to consume all that lay below us. And that’s where my memory ends. I’ve no idea what we salvaged, for we kept rabbits and chickens. Perhaps we released them to run for their lives, and went in search of them in the aftermath. I’ve no idea. I’ve also no recollection what damages befell our house. Those things don’t figure into a toddler’s mind, at least not mine.

I remember another time when I was older, my mom was driving a few of us kids along the road that ran past the pier that bordered Maui’s capital city, Wailuku, and the neighboring town of Kahului. Traffic crawled as those in cars gawked at people who had abandoned their cars alongside the road, running to scavenge fish that lay on the exposed ocean floor. They thought little about the risk to their lives, for it was certain they could not outrun the thunderous waves that would come crashing down upon them, when the sea rolled back in from where it stood along the horizon. The police seemed helpless in their efforts to corral those who would sacrifice everything for a few fish. My mom didn’t linger to witness the sad scenario that was destined to become even worse. We read of the fatalities the next day, in the local newspaper.

Though these events are distant memories, my fear is still palpable. As I watch TV news programs showing the terrible destruction in Japan, I can feel the despair that must have overwhelmed those who were unprepared for the onslaught, and the dread of those who could only watch as fellow Japanese were bandied about like Mother Nature‘s playthings.

Kahikinui coastline, Maui

Image via Wikipedia

Tsunamis, like other natural disasters, leave little to the imagination. They’re here, and then they’re gone. What’s left in their wake is of little consequence to them. Humankind is left to refashion its environment, after Mother Nature has had her way. Is there any doubt then, who is the true master of this earth we call home?

reflecting upon our smallness…keeps us humble…hugmamma.