Dear Family
Thursday evening we held our monthly missionaries-are-out-of-money dinner for our district and their investigator friends at our apartment. We hosted 12 this time, four investigators and 8 missionaries counting ourselves.
Pat prepared a delicious taco salad, or what we, with our daughter Betsy’s prompting, call Mexican Pile-ups. The meal was a big hit and though enormous portions were available, in the end of the evening, it was all gone. Our sweet “Japanese daughter,” Sister Yamada, and her amazing American companion, Sister Black, gave a nice spiritual message. All seemed to have a fun time. It is a joy for us to have these good people in our home, though it was an exhausting evening for Pat. She actually left the office at noon and drove home to begin preparations, and I took the bus later to join her. She is driving a lot now, though last week we had a sort of setback in that category. It seems as she was entering the traffic stream from a parking lot, the fence post lurched over and scraped the side of the car leaving three ugly scratch marks on the left rear door. I have it on the best authority that this is not unusual behavior for mean-spirited Japanese fence posts when foreign drivers are detected in the area. She swears that she will never drive again here, but I know she’ll be back in the driver’s seat soon. She is amazing.
Saturday, on our P-day, we went to Tosu to see our grandchildren, ages 4 and 6, participate in a school sports day. It was a long, drawn-out affair and quite an experience. It was really fun to visit their school, see the children with their peers, and to see their teachers and helpers engaged.
There were foot races, individual and relay, there were odd games, formations and parades, featuring strange music and interesting costumes. There were 80-90 children per class, with three grades: two pre-school and one kindergarten. The children were all in uniform, with bright colored caps designating their grade levels. There were maybe six young women helpers hovering about each grade level to keep the kids where they needed to be. All the movements of the children on and off the field were very strictly controlled and precisely executed – as much as possible with such small children. We were surprised to see the extensive regimentation employed with these small children. There was a distinct impression, particularly in the lectures they received from a rigid authoritarian figure at the beginning and end, that individualism and initiative were not welcome attributes. It was great to see the grandchildren and to rejoice in their participation, but to the Occidental eyes of their grandparents, unused to Oriental ways, some of what we saw was also troubling and worrisome.
There were foot races, individual and relay, there were odd games, formations and parades, featuring strange music and interesting costumes. There were 80-90 children per class, with three grades: two pre-school and one kindergarten. The children were all in uniform, with bright colored caps designating their grade levels. There were maybe six young women helpers hovering about each grade level to keep the kids where they needed to be. All the movements of the children on and off the field were very strictly controlled and precisely executed – as much as possible with such small children. We were surprised to see the extensive regimentation employed with these small children. There was a distinct impression, particularly in the lectures they received from a rigid authoritarian figure at the beginning and end, that individualism and initiative were not welcome attributes. It was great to see the grandchildren and to rejoice in their participation, but to the Occidental eyes of their grandparents, unused to Oriental ways, some of what we saw was also troubling and worrisome.
Last week we also had our first Japanese hospital experience. Late one evening, it appeared that a festering sore on my neck had developed a serious infection and needed immediate attention. Not willing or able to venture there on our own, we called for help. The AP elders arrived at about 11:00 pm to take us to the hospital. When we apologized for the imposition, Elder Clements said, “Are you kidding? This is every missionary’s dream - out after curfew, with permission. What could be better?” I felt privileged to receive in the hospital parking lot at midnight a priesthood blessing from two righteous young men of great faith. At the hospital very polite nurses ushered us into a tired young ER intern who, with the assistance of the electronically-enhanced translations of Elder Watanabe, declared it to be an infection, not blood poisoning and sent us home with antibiotics. Two visits to a dermatologist and one biopsy later, my non-cancerous wound is healing nicely, and we and the AP elders are sleeping through the night again. I liked the Japanese medical personnel - the doctors are grim and abrupt and unsmiling- the nursing staff, are dressed in pure white, masked and extremely polite – the pharmacist’s staff is deferential, thorough and efficient – the wound is healing – and the medical costs, even before insurance, were way, way less than back home. What could be better? But, God bless the elders; we would have been totally lost without them as chauffeurs and interpreters.
We hope all is well with you, and send our love over the miles – Your far eastern correspondents, Mom and Dad
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