Seems like only yesterday, a day full of excitement, our mother was putting us all in burgundy box, leather jackets and green stretch cords. A past reflection of 80’s fashion all leaving puppy love’s behind in search of new directions; to start a new life in upstate New York.
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As most of the people reading this blog know, I’ve been in Japan a looong time. I’ve been here 14 years. My first 5 years, I was a bona fide, 100-percent-American. I have started to change. I still do many things that are American but Japanese customs are slowly creeping into my daily life.
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As I sit here typing on my computer while the weather churns and Osaka prepares for the typhoon later this evening, I have to tell you last week was not a great week. My cherished bicycle was stolen. It was locked in the bike parking lot of my apartment. Early Friday night, I had ridden up the long hill, parked my bike, locked it and turned my secret code (09 11 [my birthday backwards] ) to other numbers so it would read 1911. Nobody could ever unlock this bike I thought as I entered the building.
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