I used to take advantage of every in-between moment ... for example, while in elementary school, during math, I would finish the English homework so I wouldn't have to take anything home. I'd read the newspaper and do the crossword while eating breakfast or on the john.
I'd use the Internet while eating lunch and be on the phone while finishing a school paper on the computer at the same time (while maybe finishing the crossword, listening to music with headphones).
I wasn't diagnosed hyper or "lacked focus" or did drugs. My head just felt like it was "on" all the time. It was like a 3-D clockwork dynamo of inner-connected rings spinning and whirring, usually more intently in the time "between" I was supposed to be here or there.
It could have been my sugar intake.
But anyway, I felt that way, and I don't any more. Rarely does anything I experience these days inundate all my inner and physical senses like that now.
Before, I felt like I was on the verge of epipheny.
Now, I'm happy if the taped American football game on satellite turns out to be interesting.
I don't want to be too cliche to say it's just my age, but if it is, perhaps, I shouldn't be too afraid of age.
Japanese women, for example, live the longest on the average than anywhere else in the world. Japanese men consistently rank in the top three for longevity, often number one. I think this last year, Japanese men's average lifespan was 79 or 80 years.
While the number of senior citizens increases every year here faster than the general population growth, I've witnessed a decent and positive treatment of the elderly for the most part.
Many Japanese still care for their aging parents or grandparents at home, but some submit to care in day centers which wash and bathe and even play with those in their care, often doing crafts or exercise.
Not that that doesn't happen in the States, but with the same devotion to duty or appreciation.
My father was recently hospitalized after surgery and spent some time in a senior rehabilitative home that was afforded by his insurance, and I was appalled at his treatment, based on what he said. Overcrowding, patients of advanced dementia sharing space with simple physical rehabilitation patients, apathetic staff attention, billing errors. Quality and devotion of payment seemed entirely based on whether your check had cleared. I couldn't imagine the intensity of care from the staff would increase by the amount you paid, only the increased obligation to smile by management or accounting if perhaps they came across you.
Yet, while I have this general sense that growing old in Japan may have its benefits of appreciation, I wonder if I have earned it.
Now, I am no saint in this, because as my father endured his recovery from serious surgery I remained in Japan and only kept in contact by phone or through contact with my siblings or mother. I demonstrated no devotion by flying home to visit, to care for my father, to assist my siblings and family. I had the excuse of living abroad and having a family of my own to care for, I couldn't be expected to fly in and do ... what? in a short visit.
But, as the edge of age and waning energy creeps into my lone in-betweens before I go to bed at night, I wonder if my children will be there for me when I am older, whether living here in Japan will make me feel any closer to the golden epipheny we come to dream in facing our passing.
Or will I have wasted my energy on myself all these years instead of on those around me.
