Enabler vs. Supportive Friend

In the Spring I went to the Tokyo Hobby Show and had my fill of interesting eye-candy. Some things spoke to me more than others, but the one thing I thought was really interesting were some multicolored purses I saw at a booth – the hoards of Japanese ladies surrounding the booth would be my big clue that something very cool was there that I had to see. With very little English, and even less Japanese (on my part) I was able to purchase the supplies that came with an instruction sheet ... that was of course in Japanese. I seem to be accumulating multiple sewing projects, and it would appear that for our time here in Japan I have acquired a taste for Japanese handbags. I have collected numerous patterns, which are all naturally in Japanese. I keep buying, and stuffing the patterns in my craft drawer (please note the word drawer, not room, not closet, but drawer - in a years time I have gone from a studio space to a drawer!) with the hope that one day I would be able to pull them out and spend hours sewing away, making really chic bags out of Japanese obis (the beautiful sashes they wear around their kimonos).

So I have two problems. The first is that I cannot read Japanese. The second is that I do not have my sewing machine (a.k.a my "Ferrari" - Jeff's name for my Bernina, which has to do with how much it cost not how fast I sew, although I can make it go pretty darn fast thank you very much). Not one to let a couple of obstacles like language barriers and lack of essential machines to get in my way of accomplishing a project I figured it would all work itself out ...

First problem solved. I have a neighbor friend, Etsuko, who is Japanese and happened to fall in love with a guy in the Navy and now follows her husband all over the world too. Lucky her, for the first time since they've been married she got to come home to Japan. Lucky me, I asked if she would mind looking at the directions and help walk me through the process and she said yes. As she started looking over the instructions she commented "wow" and I of course wanting to be clued in and asked "what?" It turns out the "fabric" I bought isn't really fabric but tatami matt webbing that's used to cover the edges of the tatami matts. O.K. I think, now that's cool. I'm going to make a purse out of tatami matt webbing. Love it!

Second problem, well sometimes you need your friends to support you in your endeavors - by either standing firm and saying "no" ... like as in "no, you don't need that Mocha Frapp if you plan to fit back into the clothes you arrived here with" or they could be an enabler and respond like my friend Val did with a "sure you can borrow my sewing machine, even though you put yours in storage for 3 years so that you could explore life beyond the machine." Thank you Val for being an Enabler! I had so much fun creating this bag, mmmm, well o.k. I'm sure sewing to most of you wouldn't be on your "fun" list but maybe creating would be ... and so for the first time in quite a while I created something out of flat pieces of webbing and even though I'm sure some of my "winging it" with the instructions wouldn't pass with the Japanese ladies I wiggled my way through to see what they were all looking at, it worked for me and I was ... inspired.

Reflections

Normally, automobiles really don't do much for me, they are a necessity, a tool to get me from one place to another. Just show me where the gas goes, hand me the keys and I'm good. It's just a car. Vintage cars however are a completely different story. My dad loves old cars and for as long as I can remember he has stopped at every vintage car show we happened to pass by, if a vintage car is in a parking lot he will amble over to it - drawn to it like a moth to light. He knows the details ... make, year, etc. And if the owner is around, it will be at least another 10 to 15 minutes before we're on our way - he gathers all the info. Perhaps it was this exposure to vintage cars from a young age that I learned to appreciate their beauty. And I had my dreams, when I was younger I really wanted a 1965 Ford Mustang Convertible ... in red of course. On the weekends my dad and I would stop and look at the cars for sale in the parking lot of a local store and I'd dream ... but it wasn't meant to be. Too much money, not very practical for driving back and forth to college in ... it sure was fun to look though.

This past weekend was Friendship Day here on base. The gates are open and after standing in hours long lines to get through security the Japanese are welcomed on base to various festivities. A couple of ships are open to tour, there are music performances, many organizations selling various kinds of American food - pizza is a HUGE hit here (I actually see the Japanese walking out with luggage carts with 10+ pizza boxes strapped to the luggage carrier with bungee cords - and I wonder why? The pizza I've had out in town beats what we have here on base). I avoided the crowds, it was a beastly hot and humid day, and hunkered down inside our air conditioned townhouse until 4:30 ... when I grabbed my camera, hoped that the afternoon light would be my friend and I headed to the auto show portion of Friendship Day. There I figured I had photo ops galore to continue practicing my photography skills (and I use that term loosely).

There were all kinds of cars there, many newer souped up cars and low-riders (hadn't seen those since we lived in San Diego) but those did not interest me, I passed them with hardly a glance my focus was on something a couple of rows over ... like that moth to the light, there was a 1965 Black Ford Mustang, beautifully restored. There were also some other really cool older cars that I wished I'd had my dad next to me telling me about them - an old yellow pick up truck, a beautiful British sports car. All were great opportunities for me to practice my photography, I learned a lot that day about lighting and reflection, angles and focus. I still have such a long ways to go, but each time I'm out I learn a little bit more. And, I realized I really loved taking pictures of these vintage cars – they are beautiful, and the care their owners have taken to maintain their beauty for others to enjoy is well ... inspiring.

Indigo dye

One of the spouses here on base amazes me ... she has a newborn and a toddler, she just finished up her masters degree and she has a home business, making and selling the cutest little kimono tops - American style.


In addition to all of the above she is also an avid knitter and has been experimenting with natural dyes. I am in awe of her and I wonder ... did I have that much energy 20 years ago (she's much younger than me)? Does she even sleep? When she mentioned that she would be interested in having an informal dye workshop I immediately piped up and said I wanted in. I ordered my supplies from Dharma but even with guidance managed to leave out a few necessary ingredients ... luckily for me Tara had extra's to share.


The first session involved various natural dyes like madder (the orange/rust color), cochineal (pink color), lak and some others. It was all just one big experiment to me so I ordered some ready to dye yarn and had at it ... the hank in the slide show with rust, shows one where I dyed two ends but I felt like it still needed something else. Same with the cochineal. And so we decided to have round two and agreed to meet a few weeks later to experiment with Indigo.


I have been very interested in learning about indigo dyeing with my passion for all things Shibori. Indigo is the traditional dye used for shibori work here in Japan. I have seen the in-ground ancient dye pots in Mashiko, saw a demonstration at the Tokyo International Quilt show and of course immerse my work in it every month in my Shibori class but I do not know how to make the dye. I have used chemical dyes for a number of years but the natural indigo dye process seemed intimidating to me and I just had not worked up the courage to try this out on my own. So with Tara's guiding hands we ordered indigo from Dharma, I sacrificed my blender (I hated the thing anyways ... I don't care what Jeff said Consumer Reports rated it, it was the worst blender ever - perhaps good enough for chopping up indigo into tiny little pieces but nothing else), and we dyed away. The kids came home from school and between the fermenting indigo smell and the wet wool smell just about gagged on the farm smell that permeated our house – an aroma somewhere between a compost pile mixed in with a bunch of wet wool. "Eeewwww, what is that smell?!" as they covered their mouths and noses upon walking into the house. Not that they were probably too surprised, since I'm pretty darn sure they think they have a wacked-out mom anyways, with art projects always around ("Wait! Don't throw that out, it's not trash it's for an idea I have."), my "Darth Vadar" particle mask that I used to wear when mixing chemical dyes, and now hanks of damp wool hanging in our laundry room (think wet dog times 100).


Oh, but it was so worth it ... the experiment worked and I can't wait to order more Indigo and have another round – when there's no humidity, I can open all the doors and windows, and go crazy dyeing away. I have no idea what I will knit with these yarns, and since I am probably the world's slowest knitter anyways it will be years before I see the results. But I was inspired. Inspired by a much younger mom to try new things and to not be afraid to make mistakes (oops, we let the madder dye bath boil – that's o.k. look the color is a lovely burnt orange) and inspired to share. I got so much more out of these two dye days having shared the experience with others. Try new things, make mistakes, share with others ... now that's inspiring.

50 Years

Today is my parents 50th wedding anniversary. I have no idea what their dreams for their future together were when they exchanged vows on July 9th 1960. I can only imagine some of their vision has played out as they expected but I'm guessing most of it has not. I also suspect though that looking back, as only two people can that have shared a half a century together, that they would agree that it has been a good ride, not always a smooth ride, there were certainly some potholes thrown in there but all in all it's been a good trip.

They raised two daughters that I hope have brought them more joy than heartache – although I would guess that during the teenage years there were many times they wondered just what the hell they had gotten themselves into. Now they get to sit back and reap the benefits of surviving the turbulent teenage years and wallow in the joy of having 5 grandchildren that adore Nana and Granddaddy.

They had several dogs – Boots, Penny, Gwen – and one more thrown in there that was so short lived I can't even remember it's name. Remarkable to me when I think that my mom did not grow up with pets, but my dad being a country boy grew up around more animals than he probably would care to remember. A good example of how two different backgrounds can come together to form their own vision of what their home would be. Even though I know at times having dogs was way more hassle than it was worth, my parents gave me a gift of having a family pet that I now carry on with my own family.

They lived commitment and support when my dad lost his job and my mom turned her talents into a successful business. They lived together and worked together – with my independent Navy spouse ways I cannot fathom how their marriage survived that! They survived countless trips up and down I-85 from Richmond to Atlanta as my mom dealt with aging parents and my dad logged in miles and miles behind the wheel getting her there. They know all the places to stop, the mileage/time goals and when to leave Atlanta to time it just right to miss rush hour traffic around Greenville/Charlotte/Raleigh-Durham.

They've had some great trips starting off small when my sister and I were younger – Myrtle Beach with my grandparents and always the traveling bar. I think that thing got cracked open before the suitcases, Whiskey Sours and Manhattans on the rocks. Let the vacation begin! Later, with my sister and I married and off on our own lives, there were trips to Europe and of course the many vacations to St. Augustine Beach where my mom fulfilled one of her dreams by owning a place at the beach. Sharing that dream with us, with our own vacations shared and spent there. So many great memories.

Twenty-six years ago, just before I got married I had a family friend tell me that "being married will be the toughest job you've ever had. The kids grow up and move away, the family dog dies ... but if you want to stay married you're going to have to work at it, every-single-day." Your words of wisdom were spot on Mr. Harris, and I've thought of them often – today more than any day. Today I look at my parents and see their marriage as more than just words exchanged in a ceremony, I see it as hope for the future together, when you don't know what the future is but you know you're in it together. Secure in the knowledge that their lives together are so much richer because they stuck it out – staying together when things are good is easy, it's when life throws you the lemons that you learn how to make the lemonade – tart and sweet southern style. 

We are half a world away, the Navy in it's infinite wisdom has parked us in Japan for the time being, and like many military families based overseas we cannot always be where our hearts want to be. I wish our family could be in Atlanta on this special day, to give my mom and dad a hug and a kiss in person, to thank them for all they've done – for not just saying their wedding vows fifty years ago but for living them as well. I can think of nothing more inspiring.

Teaching an old dog new tricks

For the past two days I have traveled up to Tokyo for a photography workshop class. It has been incredibly frustrating and rewarding at the same time. I am an amateur photographer, on the beginning side of that category. When we moved last year and I went through my major purge/organize mode I realized that I had really stopped taking photos. Jeff had taken many at the kids sporting events but with reluctant family members I no longer had the camera out to capture those precious moments of childhood. Coming to Japan has changed all of that, I hardly ever leave the house without my camera and the days I do I kick myself because of the missed photo op. But my camera skills are rusty. I had become a complacent photographer leaving the camera mode on "auto" for the first 6 months we were here but being continuously frustrated with my results. I took the baby step of graduating to "vari-modes" where I helped the camera determine if I was shooting a landscape or a portrait or action. Better, but still not fabulous. I signed up for an online photography workshop which kick started me into trying to take some portraits of my unwilling children and attempted to take the final step into Manual Mode where I set up everything. I used to do this, my old SLR was all me – I had to determine aperture, shutter speed even considering the film I was using. But that information had atrophied in my brain with the introduction of digital photography, I was letting the camera think for me and it wasn't working. What I really needed was Photography 101 and found a 3-day photography class/seminar being held in Tokyo with hands on instruction. It has been great. I have had to relearn my camera and also come to realize that Jeff and I are using a Matchbox VW Bug to try and get great shots while the others in the class are driving Ferrari's. But that's o.k. with me for now, until I can get the shots I want out of this camera there's no point in forking out the big bucks (and I've had a reminder in just how expensive this hobby is) for a high powered model.

Yesterday in the sweltering heat and humidity of rainy season in Tokyo our group took a fieldtrip to the the Harajyuku area. I fiddled with settings, got shooed away from unwilling shopkeepers who I guess get tired of all the tourists taking photographs and not buying anything. It started to rain and I pulled out my umbrella, waiting for the rain to pass. While I was standing there looking at the cool Keith Harringesque artwork on the construction fence I decided to use some of the knowledge relearned and put it to use. I got the shot above - my best of the day. A few weeks ago it could have ended with a photo just like this and I'd wonder what was missing. Yesterday, a match was lit and rekindled some of what I learned in the photography class I took at RISD 20 years ago. An afternoon spent in the mushi-atsui (steaming hot humidity) was well worth it. I realized I can relearn lost information and as with most things in life it just takes a boatload of practice and getting out there to get what you want. Now that's inspiring.

Happy Rainy Season

It's here ... the rainy season has begun. The dehumidifiers are running around the clock, the umbrellas are by the front door, in the car and in my teaching bag. We have moisture absorbers in the closets to prevent our clothes from molding. I've purchased handkerchiefs that all Japanese seem to carry – to pat away the perspiration that seems to flow non-stop from my pores. I've tried to purchase some cool Japanese clothes – that's cool as in staying cool, not hip, as in fashion cool (although with any luck I managed that one too) – that will help me wade through this season of thick air and frequent rain showers.

The Japanese, as with so many things since arriving here, have given me a different perspective on this season. Normally back home (i.e. the Southern U.S.) I would whine incessantly about being hot, count the days to Fall and hunker down in my air conditioned home. Here in Japan, I am surrounded by those who have survived the rainy season since the moment they were born. They cope with brightly colored umbrellas, fashionable raincoats, mod rainboots, bags that are waterproof – they are well equipped. I try to discreetly peek at fellow passengers while riding the trains, wondering how they mange to pull it all off - they look pulled together, ready for the day rain or shine and they are not perspiring. How is that possible?

The rainy season, tsuyu (meaning plum rain) officially began on June 12th and is predicted to end July 27th. It is thought that the season is called plum rain because it coincides with the ripening of plums but whatever the name I have noticed one thing – it does not deter the Japanese from getting out there and continuing to enjoy life and nature. Maybe it's because like the rice that depends on the rain for it's growth, the Japanese realize that to stay inside because it's raining or may rain is to miss out on what life has to offer. Last week when I opted to leave the camera at home due to the rain only to have it lift and it turned into a beautiful afternoon (albeit a hot and humid one), I missed out. My opportunity to see the hydrangeas was lost, because I was thinking like an American, "oh it's raining ... I'll wait for another day." I won't make that mistake again. I'll take my Americanized version of "Happy Rainy Style" and get out there and see what I've been missing. That's inspiring.

Noro Inspiration

Here on base there are communities within communities. Sort of like a food chain. For example, there's the YOSC (Yokosuka Officers Spouses Club) that includes all officer spouses (if you opt to join) that are attached to the base. Each command has their own organization, like the Oakleaf Club, which includes all officer spouses attached to the Medical Services - whether at the hospital or on a ship. And then each ship has their organization - divided of course by officer and enlisted. I belong to YOSC and the Oakleaf Club and I've benefitted from these memberships - when you move to a new area, especially overseas, it is a good way to jump in and get connected fast. But I am probably not the best example of a dutiful military spouse – Jeff has at times over the years referred to me as the anti-spouse (thanks dear). I don't really know who's who in the military hierarchy, when someone tells me what their husband does I try real hard to pay attention but if there's a military acronym involved I immediately start to glaze over. Perhaps it's because I'm more interested in who they are, what they like to do ... not who their husband is/or works for (hopefully, this honest declaration won't get me shunned here on base). Perhaps it is also because even though I am married to Jeff, and I am proud of all he's accomplished I usually try to keep it underwraps who I'm married to. It's a small base, with many, many kids ... if you have a child here, chances are they've seen my husband at some point. "Ooooooooh, you're Dr. Cleary's wife!" .... mmmmm, well yes. As one person said to me recently after declaring the previous statement "oh, I'm sorry - you probably get that a lot here don't you?" Sometimes, Jeff and I joke and say I'm just "the wife" when referring to me in a conversation – no name, just "wife" – like an afterthought.

There is however a group here where all is equal, there is no rank, no who's who ... it's not enlisted nor officer – we are just a group of women who come together with a common interest. Knitting is the great equalizer. Each week the Knitwits (Yokosuka Knitting Group), comes together to share knitting knowledge, projects, encouragement (as you have to rip out hours of knitting), inspiration and of course laughs. It has been a wonderful opportunity for me, I knew how to knit when I arrived here but my knitting experience to that point had been mostly me starting projects and then shipping them off to my mom to finish when I hit a point and I realized I was out of my league. My mom is an amazing knitter, she has made our children some beautiful sweaters and the cutest darn hats ... all have been carefully packed away in my cedar chest to pass along to the next generation. She has offered me encouragement, guidance with my projects – and the hope that one day I too could knit as well as she does. Here in Japan, I have had the chance with each project to continue to learn and try new techniques ("look mom!" I said on Skype holding up a swatch of knitting so she could see half way around the world, "I learned how to make a cable!") and my mom has been replaced by my Japanese knitting sensei who is kind and patient and I swear can knit a 100 stitches to my every one – she's fast.

At one of our meetings a couple months back one of the ladies brought some Noro knitting yarn and mentioned that wouldn't it be great if we could take a field trip to the Noro knitting factory? We have a wonderful knitting shop just off base that helped to coordinate Noro coming to us. The company does not give tours of their facility but they agreed to send a company representative to come and talk to us about the process and their yarns. We met at Sakuma-sans family home (her grandparents built it, a traditional Japanese styled home, nearly 100 years ago) and spent an afternoon learning about the process, looking at the samples and the beautiful yarns, and of course eating some great food. I walked away with two projects and a lot of inspiration. I am still a beginner and I am a slow knitter. These two projects may just take me until the end of our time here to finish (sensei says with a twinkle in her eyes "start now, maybe you will finish before you leave"), but no matter - I came away with projects that I will learn more techniques, a chance to become familiar with the only knitting yarn produced in Japan, and of course a lot of inspiration.