You tell yourself, "Maybe one more year, maybe one more year."
One year rolls by, but you're still here. You're still here.
But you could go...
---The Postcards
The tortuous miles give way to thinking
That all things should never change,
But the chill of the wind at your back reminds you
Of what cannot stay the same.
---The Brother Kite
Moving back to the USA in 2002 was an extremely painful experience for me, and many tears were shed. At the time, I thought that I did not enjoy teaching English, and I even wrote about how I felt I didn't belong in Japan. Back then, I thought that the only way to continue working as an Assistant Langauge Teacher (ALT) was to go from one city to the next, working a contract that had a set maximum number of years I could work. I was also yearning to see what kind of work I was capable of in my home country.
Well, the past nine years has proven to me that the grass isn't always greener on the other side of the fence. Sure, I have had jobs where I have made an incredible amount of money, but I have also been only able to work contract jobs, because those were the only way for me to survive. And the job market only got worse. Liberals complained about the economy during the Bush Administration, saying that it was the worst economy since Herbert Hoover, but all those complainers became really silent when President Barrack Hussein Obama, the first person to be elected President via Affirmative Action, took charge. He had no track record of success and was only elected not on the content of his character, but the color of his skin. When the economy then got even worse, they were silent, blaming it on his predecessor, and still praised Obama's tactics as nothing short of genius... if only us stupid little peasants could only understand how brilliant he truly is. The Obamunists voted for him to appease their white guilt so that they could feel all cozy for voting for someone they thought was an African American. Not only can he recite Islamic prayers perfectly, but he never hesitates to denigrate those who disagree with him, to espouse the virtues of "spreading the wealth," and to intentionally weaken the US dollar in the international exchange market. When Obama said that once a person makes a certain amount of money that he really doesn't need anything more than that (I wish I can find this exact quote somewhere), I completely agree that philosophically and for one's well-being and contentment, he is absolutely right. However, that is not how America is made, and the President has no right to say what money a person should or should not be entitled to. On the campaign trail, Obama had promised to put an end to job outsourcing and to put an end to the tax cuts to businesses which outsource that Bush had implemented. I was tempted to vote for him because I figured it would take a Democrat to do something like that. In the end, it didn't matter because he broke that promise.
Anyhow, what I meant to say before that rant is that the economy was bad, and it got even worse. Because of this, companies just do not seem to hire people on full-time anymore. Contract work was the only way I could survive. Many years ago, some clowns who were contractors at Microsoft had worked there for many years, and they were being invited to the company picnics, ball games, Christmas parties, etc. When they started demanding stock options, Microsoft reiterated that they were contractors, so they decided to sue the company because they felt that they were being treated as more than just mere contractors. Despite being morons, they won the case, and ever since then, many companies decided to adopt contract time limits in order to protect themselves. For some companies, it's a year; for others, maybe two years. Recently, I had worked two 18 month contracts for Wells Fargo, with a mandatory 6 months break in between. As much as I liked the company and I was treated well there, something was missing with the job there and all the other IT project jobs I had worked at other companies. Being stuck in a work cubicle all day long did not provide my soul with a sense of worth. I missed the interaction with students, teaching them, mentoring them, and being a positive role model.
Ever since moving back to the United States in 2002, I have wanted to return to Japan. As I have written before, Since we moved back in '02, I've felt like a part of me never really left Japan. I'm sure I have bored many coworkers with my constant babble about Japan, and I'm sure that inwardly they were rolling their eyes and thinking, "Oh, boy. Greg's talking about Japan again." Heck, so much of my website here and my Youtube Channel is centered around Japan, which reflects so much of my own life. As I have said before, in the process of moving back to America, it's like I left a big part of my personality behind. Each year when I would visit Japan since then, it's like I was reunited with the part of me I left behind--the version of Greg that never left. Every time I return to Japan, I feel like I've come home. I feel that I belong in Japan. Perhaps you can understand the feeling, perhaps not. Those who have lived in Japan can surely understand how I have felt for the past nine years. My friends and especially my family cannot understand this sentiment. Most people cannot relate to this.
So here I am in Japan, once again. When I began my new ALT job in Saku City, Nagano-ken, when I sat down in my new desk in the teacher's room and again when I stood in front of my first class, I felt like I haven't done this job in ages, yet at the same time it seemed like it was just a short while ago. Such a strange feeling. Unlike last time, I am teaching elementary school 5th and 6th graders. The curriculum is designed for team teaching with a Japanese homeroom teacher, but most of the time, this is not the case. I am the primary teacher, driving the lessons, and it is a good experience. Seeing the kids smiling and waving and saying "hello!" to me in the school halls or in the classrooms makes me feel great. This is what I have been longing for all along.
Perhaps later I will write more on the ins and outs of teaching in Japan. Right now, I've only been here for a month.
My mom passed away
Only a few weeks after we moved to Japan, my mother died in the hospital. I've had some well-meaning former co-workers telling me that Mom is now in Heaven and/or she has now become a guardian angel for our daughter or something. I've done a bit of Word study lately and this has reinforced what I already knew from reading. Her spirit sleeps until the glorious resurrection upon Christ's return. It's a comforting thought to think that she's with God now, but we'll all go together at once. I still can't stop speaking aloud that I love her.
My Mom had leukemia for about ten years, but my wife and I have been planning on returning to Japan for such a long time. Because of Mom's illness, I felt a responsibility to stay. Mom was a good Christian woman and fiercely loyal to her family, but she was also very obstinate, opinionated, and occasionally "ornery," as Dad says. Mom was so sad when we announced that we were moving back. This is the truly painful part about having an international marriage: you can't be in both countries at the same time. I knew that Mom would miss her granddaughter so much, but at the same time, I couldn't just wait around for her to die before we begin to live the life we wanted. That is too cynical. It was a difficult decision to make, and I anguished over this for years. But last year, we knew for a while that we would be moving to Japan, so we tried to spend as much time with Mom as possible before we left.
For Veterans' Day weekend in November, we took a family vacation to Nevada. We stayed in Laughlin and went on a day trip to Las Vegas. Our daughter, Ulan, is still 3 years old, and Mom was hoping that with all the bright lights and excitement, that the girl will be able to keep those memories with her and not forget her Grandma who loved her so much. She feared that she would not live to become a grandmother. But Ulan was born in May of '08, and her wish was granted. On that trip to Nevada, she cried tears of joy several times because we could all enjoy a vacation together. She was in pain then as she always was, but she had some medication to prevent pneumonia that was causing joint pain and the risk of tendonitis. Her bones always ached from the leukemia, but she pushed herself to enjoy that trip. We spent so much time at that dumb M&M's store on the Vegas strip, but I was patient because I know how much Mom loved that kind of stuff. She was always giving M&Ms to our girl, and we didn't like her giving her chocolate. Still, we wish now that we could continue getting upset at that dumb chocolate if she was only around still. We also went shopping at the boring factory outlet in Laughlin. My wife doesn't like shopping for clothes either, and our girl was getting impatient and grumpy. But Mom bought so many nice clothes for our girl at the Osh Kosh store there, and just seeing my girl wearing those clothes the day after she died made me cry.
Our daughter's birth gave Mom so much more determination to keep living. She gained much energy just seeing Ulan every time, and one time my girl wanted to call her Grandma on the phone. That made Mom so happy that she told everybody she knew. But she was always in the hospital, constantly. Each year she would be in the hospital more than the previous year, the number of visits seemingly increasing exponentially year by year. She was always tired and in pain. If she slept well, she was sure to tell us about it. It was sad. A part of me feels guilty for leaving her. It's as if once we moved out of the country, we took her granddaugter away, who was her reason for living, and then she died. But as my wife put it, it's better that we did not move back here years ago like we had planned. We went through so many financial hardships and unemployment, but I'm glad that we were able to spend more time with Mom before moving back to Japan. Maybe God kept her alive until we left.
The last time I spoke with Mom must've been the week or so before she died, and I was getting ready for work. She would always ramble on about people I don't know or care about, probably because her mind was getting weak. I think I interrupted her and said, "Mom, I don't care about Tony. I just want to hear about you." Then the next week when nobody was answering the phone, I figured Mom must've been in the hospital again. I called Dad's cell phone and she was in the hospital. She has been in the hospital so much over the years that I just took it for granted that she would get better. I didn't ask Dad to hand the phone over to her and he didn't offer to do so. I asked if Mom was awake, and he said she was talking to Kathy. I said I'd just call back the next day. But by then she was comatose. If I could've only asked, then I could have told her that I loved her one last time before she went.
I felt badly about not being there before she died, but my sister told me that I was better off not seeing her bloated and in pain, her body slowly poisoning itself with a lack of bowel movements. Dad said that even when she was asleep, her face would wince in pain. She was in agony, and eventually she couldn't even remember my sister or Dad. My sister told me that even if I was there to tell her that I loved her and was going to miss her, she wouldn't have even remembered my face.
She had no autoimmune system, so it's a blessing that she lived as long as she had. Her body was being poisoned by the antibiotics the doctors were giving her. If only she had eaten yogurt and fruit and built up her intestines, maybe she would have lived longer. But she was obstinate, and she was afraid of vomiting or diarrhea. As a result, this time, she just wasn't strong enough for the doctors to even operate or anything to save her.
I guess many people go through the "If only... if only..." mindset after a loved one passes away. I wish I had been able to tell her how much I loved her and apprecaited her one last time before she died, but I am sure she already knew that. Mom had breast cancer just over 20 years ago, when i was a freshman in high school. She had the worst variety, and was given about 6 years to live, maximum, if the surgery was successful. However, God kept her going and miraculously, He gave us 20 years with Mom.
It was the winter of 1990/91 and I was a freshman in high school. The doctor said that if the surgery was successful, she would have about 6 years to live. Our pastor, family and friends gathered around her hospital bed and prayed for her the night before her surgery. She felt a surge of tingling electricity course through her body and the next morning, the doctor cut out the completely dead cancer cells. The biopsy the day before showed that the cancer was alive and growing aggressively, but on the day of the operation it was all completely dead. God had healed her that night in Thunderbird Hospital.
I was just 14 years old, and I asked my parents, "If God healed Mom, why do you want to do chemotherapy? Where is your faith?" They claimed some dumb reason for insurance or whatever. Then over the next several years, Mom was wrecked by the chemo. Combining that with menopause that lasted nearly a decade, my teen years were rather difficult. Then around the time I was married when I was 25, she was diagnosed with leukemia. I'm certain that the chemo brought that on. If Mom had just claimed full victory over cancer in the healing power of Christ and rejected chemotherapy instead of trusting the oncologist, she could be alive today.
Mom had been near death so many times throughout her life, starting with the time she nearly died from pneumonia when I was in junior high and my sister Kim had to drive her to the hospital. Each time in her life as she neared death in the hospital and was fading away, she could feel the presence of Jesus next to her, giving her an option to come or stay. She always elected to stay and live to become a grandmother. And when Ulan was born, her decision was to stay and fight to remain her grandmother. But this last time, before Mom lost consciousness, she told Dad that Jesus was not there. She told Dad that a choice would not be offered and that it was time for her to finally pass away in peace.
Mom battled so many illnesses, but this one stupid little infection she picked up at a hospital snowballed into a huge problem and led to her death. It's just not fair. But, at least she is no longer in pain. She was always happy when she slept a night without pain, and was sure to tell us about it. Such nights must have been rare for her. But now she sleeps, free from pain forever.
Goodbye, Mom. You were always there for me, both growing up and as an adult. You were a loyal, loving, and caring mom, and I miss you. I love you, Mom. Rest in peace.
Next: People who suck in Japan.
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mail: greg -atsign- stevethefish -dot- net