Hidemi

Hidemi, sweetheart… why?? :(

I guess I’ll never have an answer to that.

And really, I don’t want an answer. There’s no answer that would change the fact of it being sad and wrong. You’re gone. I would rather just have you back.

All I have left are some of my most beautiful memories of Iya and Japan, wrapped around images of a lovely girl who laughed in my English classroom. Who hid from me in the gym. Who skied down snowy slopes beside me. Who shared meals with me, even shared the same birthday with me. Whose brother and sister were also my students and whose injured father I visited in hospital to chat with in broken English. A lovely girl who I watched dancing an ancient rain dance on a mountain top one Shikoku summer’s day. A lovely girl who cared to remember me.

When I caught up with you and your mother and brother in Kochi last year, eight years since I’d last seen you in the valley, I met a young woman who was fulfilling all the promise I’d seen in little Hidemi. Hard working. Devoted to family. Genuine. Beautiful in every way.

Almost a year to the day since then, I hear the news (via Facebook, how else?) that you’ve died. That you took your own life. And by the time I know about it, your ashes are already at rest. Shock, denial and anger all came and went pretty quickly. Now there is just helplessness, regret, grief.

Listen to me, writing as if I was an important part of your life. Your family and friends in Japan, dozens of people I’m sure, have more cause for grief than I. But there’s something about you, Hidemi, something about the cherished memories you are a part of, maybe the meaningless fact of our shared birthday, the relationship of teacher and student, the time I spent with your family in Iya… I don’t know. Whatever it is, Hidemi, I care about you and I was expecting to see you live and learn and love and grow old, as all people should.

So here I am, writing to you as if your eternal self might notice, sharing my grief with the world, doing what I can for now by laying a digital monument to your beautiful soul.

Google, if you or your algorithms are reading, please take my inadequate words and commit them to your ageless record of the passing world. Maybe this will help to increase awareness of the sad tally of youth suicide in Japan (and everywhere). Maybe Hidemi’s story will save someone else’s life. I live in hope.

Hidemi, sweetheart… this one’s for you.

早いけど
お休みなさい
また今度

It’s early
But rest well now
We’ll meet again

Zen and the art of knife sharpening

Against the backdrop of our modern world of instant information, where people can go to Wikipedia or Youtube and quickly become "experts" in just about anything, it's nice to occasionally be reminded that there is still value in true expertise and devotion to art.

Take, for example, the art of sharpening a knife. Sure, I like a sharp knife in the kitchen, but I've never really given a second thought to the differences between knives or investing in tools to keep them sharp. You know, you buy a knife block, it has a sharpening slot, you use it when the knife gets blunt, end of story... right? Ha.

I guess my first insight into the value of a great knife came last year in Japan, when my wife, having grown sick of the standard (easily blunted) knives we had, insisted on buying a top quality chopping knife to take back to Australia. Her Dad's advice was that the best local knives were found at a weekend market in Kochi city. So we drove 2 hours across the island to get there and do our knife shopping. To go with the knife - which ended up being something more like a butcher's cleaver and had me a little worried about whether or not I was being a good enough husband - she also picked up a sharpening stone. Now that we have it all back here at home, my wife keeps the knife wrapped in newspaper to prevent oxidation of the metal blade, and soaks the stone in water overnight before using it to sharpen. It all seemed a bit over the top at the time, but I can't complain, I'm not the one chopping vegetables every day.

My appreciation of the effort that should go into keeping a good knife sharp went up a notch last week when I went out on an animal health survey for work. Animal surveys are the stuff of biosecurity legend, but in short, we head out into the wilds of northern Australia, jump in a helicopter and chase feral animals around in the name of protecting our country. For the unlucky few pigs that we catch, the usual fate is a post-mortem, taking samples of blood and tissue to check for pests and diseases of concern. To do a post-mortem, the most important thing you need (besides for a dead pig) is a good sharp knife. And what better thing to do around the campfire at day's end, in the company of classic bush characters, than to clean and sharpen your knives and discuss the finer points of the act as you go?

My campmates in eastern Cape York were all veterans of remote area field work and already had a history of spending long evenings debating the relative merits of one sharpening technique or another. They confirmed something I probably should've already known - that Japanese knives are still considered the best in the world, owing to techniques of metal folding and lamination that have their origin in the long Japanese tradition of swordmaking. They pulled out their sharpening tools - not just one stone, but two, one rougher than the other, with a vice to hold your stone of choice firm, and a diamond-edged sharpening steel rod to finish the job. And woe betide the poor soul who brought an electric knife sharpener to the last survey!

Listening to their talk, I soon realised that sharpening a knife can be a very personal, meditative experience, enhanced by developing a proper appreciation of a well-sharpened blade. Like so many things in this world, when you scratch the surface you soon find that there is so much more to know, if only you care to dig deeper. And of course, when I had the chance to do a post-mortem myself, I soon learned that cutting through the thick hide of a fully grown razorback pig is no fun with a blunt knife! I have a feeling that I'll never be able to buy anything but a top quality knife ever again...

The rest of the survey was similarly full of great experiences and insights. The last time I drove a car off-road was in Japan - once you get north of a little town called Laura, it's almost all dirt roads in Cape York. The country we flew over in the helicopter was amazing, with pockets of rainforest and stretches of coastline that have probably never known the footfall of a white man. There were crocodiles in every other waterhole or riverbend - we got in close to a toothless 15-foot monster, the biggest wild croc the pilot had ever seen. And though we still had electricity and a hot shower, it was wonderful to disconnect from the world wide web, hang out with some good blokes, sleep under the stars and get back to the simple life for a few days. I'm not sure that I'd want to do this kind of work all the time, but I am sure when I look back on my time as a quarantine officer that I'll remember this survey fondly.

A month or two ago, however, I thought I might not get the chance to go out on survey at all. It was mid-February when we found out that my wife was pregnant with our third child. Which was wonderful news of course! But unlike the pregnancies for our first two children, it was quickly apparent that this one was more delicate, with Masumi needing to make a couple of trips to the hospital's emergency department. I didn't want to head out into the bush for a week if my wife's health was at risk. Fortunately, things have settled down since we passed the 20-week mark and Mum and baby both seem to be doing well. Just to make sure, I had my own mother up to Cairns to keep the family company while I was out in the field. It all worked out well, and indeed, I think it's fair to say that everything is looking good now.

Child number three should be joining us in October. We don't know if it's a boy or a girl - since we have one of each already, it'll be fantastic to have a surprise this time around. The only thing we do know is that we need to pick a name that uses just one Chinese character, to match Ryo and Aya. We've got a few in mind already. We'll keep you all posted.

Lots of love,

Dave

For F's sake

I don't usually engage in arguments. When I encounter opinions that are different to mine, I'm usually open to them, and I don't care to challenge other points of view when it's of little real consequence. Really, you're welcome to think whatever you want if it doesn't affect anyone but yourself. Live life and explore this existence in whatever way you see fit.

But I guess, like anybody, there's some issues that press the right buttons and ignite that little arguing flame in the cockles of my heart.

For example, vaccination. Adults choosing not to vaccinate themselves is one thing. Adults choosing not to vaccinate their children is completely another.

For the record, I had my vaccines, I'm fine. My children are fully vaccinated, they're fine. I understand that, very occasionally, children have bad reactions to vaccine components. Some of them die or have permanent problems, that's very sad, I'd be shattered if it happened to me. But I'd be no less shattered if my son was hit by a car. Nothing in this life is 100% risk free. And the threat to my children and children everywhere from diseases like polio and measles is so much greater than the miniscule risk of having problems with vaccination that, for anyone who trusts modern medicine, vaccination is a no brainer.

These days, where children dying from measles is almost unheard of in a country like Australia, people who actually have no expertise in these matters are somehow given a platform to spread misinformation about issues like vaccination. As a result, a growing number of people get bad information and end up thinking that it's okay not to vaccinate their kids. These are the kids who get and spread whooping cough, because not enough people are vaccinated. These are the pockets of population where diseases like measles are making a comeback in our society. Parents these days have no idea what it was like to live with polio, we're so lucky to be free of a host of child-killing diseases. Frankly, people who don't believe in vaccination are bonkers and their kids are suffering because of it.

Unfortunately, their decisions put my children at risk, too. Maybe their children should be sent to separate schools of their own where they can all get sick and die of measles and polio together, far away from my children? I shy away from that sort of segregation, but if people believe in their right to choose about vaccination, shouldn't people also believe in the rights of parents to send their kids to schools that are free of preventable diseases? Touchy issue.

So today, I was driving home from work, listening to the radio, when another thorny subject came up. Fluoridation of water supply. Seems the Cairns Regional Council has today voted to cease adding fluoride to our city's water supply. First I'd heard of it, but apparently it's a done deal.

This is another issue where all the reputable subject matter experts, such as the World Health Organisation, the Australian Medical Association and the Australian Dental Association, say, "It's good for you, not bad for you, good for society more broadly, and this is backed by peer-reviewed science." And of course, there's a whole bunch of other people, claiming to be knowledgable but actually having no verifiable credibility, who say that fluoride is a toxin and it's doing you harm and what the hell is it doing in people's drinking water... these people somehow get given as much credence as the genuine experts, and we therefore have a situation where your average citizen can't easily get the true story.

The council's line is that the Local Governments Association of Queensland has an official position that fluoridation of water supplies is akin to "mass medication" and shouldn't be done without the prior approval of constituents. Righto. Chlorine or ozone in your water apparently doesn't qualify as "mass medication", according to the LGAQ, but fluoridation does. Never mind that fluoride occurs naturally in the earth and in all fresh water, sometimes in greater concentrations than under controlled fluoridation scenarios. The LGAQ is clearly a more credible authority on public health issues than the WHO, the AMA and the ADA... pffft.

Ah, but this isn't about public health, this is about choice. People should have a choice about whether they're drinking fluoridated water. I don't disagree with this. I simply disagree with the notion that adding tiny amounts of fluoride to a town water supply means that you no longer have a choice. Get a filter. Drink bottled water. Install a rainwater tank and drink it fresh from the sky. Or get it from below the ground. Recycle your grey water. Move off the water grid. Move towns. Move countries. More choices than you can poke a toothbrush at. Don't tell me you don't have a choice.

On the subject of councils now having a choice about fluoridation, there are two issues. The first is, what is the status quo? Do you currently not fluoridate, or do you already have the infrastructure in place and have fluoride in your water? This leads into the second issue of community consultation. If a change to the status quo is proposed, representatives are obliged to consult extensively before implementing the change.

If you don't currently fluoridate, and don't have the infrastructure, and have better things to spend a couple of million bucks on, that's fine. Tell people where they can get their fluoride tablets and then move on.

In the case of Cairns, the status quo is fluoridation. We have millions of dollars worth of fluoridation equipment already in place and working. Our community already gets the health benefits of this practice. Proposing that you are going to change this practice, for whatever reason, is fine, but the community needs a genuine opportunity to have input before you go and make a final decision. Our local councillors have failed to do this. They certainly didn't go to the most recent election on a platform of ceasing fluoridation. They haven't so much as conducted an independent survey to gauge community opinion. And they can't even claim to be making this decision on the basis of some verifiable sort of evidence.

So well done, councillors, you've delivered a solid slap in the face to everyone who believes in good science, good public health and good evidence-based decision making. You've completely F'd it up. Congratulations.

Eclipsed

I have to admit, I was initially a bit sceptical about the hoo-haa surrounding the total solar eclipse. A couple of years in advance, all the hotels in Cairns were fully booked out around the target date of November 14. The chance of a cloudy November morning on the far northern coast of Queensland is about 30%, so we had a 1 in 3 chance of seeing nothing but a false evening. And the eclipse was due to occur just after dawn, when (babies not withstanding) I am typically still in bed. Meh. How much of a spectacle could it be?

As the date crept closer, of course, there was nothing you could do to avoid it. Everyone in Cairns was talking about it. The forecast attempts from the weather bureau were coming thick and fast from about a week out. Local authorities were warning residents about likely mayhem on the roads for the few hours before and after. And makers of eclipse sunglasses were making an absolute killing - surely some of those crappy "filters" were nothing more than $5 squares of black paper!

In the end, though, I couldn't stay away. We had a friend visit from Japan and put in a detour to Cairns just for the event. A work colleague invited us around to his place, for a great view over the city and the mountains from his balcony. We borrowed some welding shields from my wife's father, who made them to view the transit of Venus earlier in the year. We bought some bubbly. We got up at 05:00 and were in place by 06:15 to see it all go down.

What do you know, there was a big fat cloud right in front of the sun as it rose over the coastal ranges. Massive fail incoming.

But wait... the edge of the cloud is brightening... glimpses of the sun, quick get the glasses... 2 minutes to go and the clouds have parted perfectly... what do you know, those crappy sunglasses really do work - but the welding shields are SOOOO much better, you can even take photos through them...

Within a matter of the last few seconds before totality, the sky darkened, the temperature dropped, and you could start to look in the general direction of the sun without being blinded. And suddenly, the sun was gone, replaced by the moon and its halo.

There followed two minutes of beautiful, perfect, somehow-I-feel-insignificant-in-the-universe totality. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE.

Even our little boy Ryo noticed it, between chasing the dog around the house. "The mooooon!" he cried and pointed. I guess he won't remember it when he's an adult, but I'll make sure he knows that he's seen it, because for most of us it's truly a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle.

And I can sort of understand why some people travel the world chasing eclipses, waiting for their next solar fix. Brief though that interlude of totality may be, it is truly a wonder of our existence in this corner of the multiverse. I think the comment that sums it up for me was to the tune of, "The fact that the moon covers the sun so perfectly makes you wonder that someone must have organised it that way." It certainly makes we wonder, and in any case, it was wonderful.

And for all you guys hanging out down at the Esplanade, I think that cloud that moved out of the way for us must have moved into the way for you. Sorry. Better luck in South Australia in a couple of decades time, eh? :)

If I hadn't been living right under the path of the eclipse, of course, I probably wouldn't have bothered. Another reason I feel lucky to have moved to Cairns some six years ago. No wonder they call it paradise.

Love,

Dave

Beautiful design

I don't know what my wife is doing, but our little girl is BIG. Growing at double the rate of most babies in the eight weeks since her birth. I've searched the house for syringes and growth hormone - nothing. Maybe there's something about giving birth on Australia Day that puts a little extra zing in your breast milk? In any case, our daughter Aya is already as big as most kids twice her age and every bit the healthy, beautiful girl we had hoped for, so I guess we'll just count our lucky stars.

The character we chose for Aya means "beautiful design", with some common usage in relation to kimonos. Masumi was keen to have a one-character name, to match our older boy Ryo. I was just happy to give her a solid, easily understood name. It happened that she joined us on her due day - just like Ryo - and at a time when we were about to move into our new home. With such good timing, and in the face of the awesome reality and blessing of now having two children, it's easy to believe that it really is all part of some greater, beautiful design.

Oh, and there was the small matter of her being born on AustrAYA Day... :)

Of course, new baby and moving house all made for a good deal of mayhem to kick off the year. Having Masumi's mother on hand to help for nearly two months made the house even busier, but certainly lightened the load. Another big help was ten days of dedicated paternity leave, courtesy of our recently approved enterprise agreement. A few of the boys from work pitched in to help us do the move - couldn't have done it without them! And we were in the house just in time for my brother to visit for a week, during which I put him to work with shovel and wheelbarrow to make a fantastic start on the landscaping.

In the four weeks we've been in the house thus far, we've always had a visitor staying with us - Masumi's mum, my brother, then my mum. It's only now, a month later, that we finally have the place to ourselves. The company's been wonderful, but it's nice to have a quiet Saturday night to ourselves, at last!

However, I could do with a little extra help around the garden still. We're getting someone else to do the patch of grass out the front, but I've got a massive load of rocks and gravel still to move around by myself, trying to stop our soil from eroding away in the big wet. It's only really the last couple of weeks that the wet season has come on in earnest here in tropical north Queensland - all the rain went south before that! Hopefully a few well placed boulders will help to hold it all together until the dry.

We get to enjoy a bit of quiet time until June, when we're probably heading off to Japan for our usual summer pilgrimage. If you have a chance to visit Cairns in the meantime, now that we've got room for guests, feel free to get in touch!

Until next time,

Dave