Dateline: Autumn, October 18, 2010—This morning I begin my journey to the Philippines, but before I go I need to leave one more thought. I sit here in the forested hills north of Oita, Japan, wrapped in a blanket against the cold, having slept under four inches of quilts. Autumn has come to Japan. It is amazing how quickly it came. A month ago I was sweltering, miserable all the time because of the inordinate heat. It was the hottest summer on record and continued through most of September. I longed for the relief of the autumnal equinox, and now I sit here freezing.

Soon the first leaf will fall, its abscission layer dried and useless, to be carried by a cool breeze away from its tree mates. That is what autumn does. And so it is in life. Most of us reach our autumn years. A bit of frost collects around the temples, our days become shorter, we lose some of our foliage, it is colder at night. These we either embrace with graceful good humor and thankful resignation, or subject ourselves to salves and creams, potions and lotions, nips and tucks. But after all the turning, one leaf has to fall first, to lead the way to decay. Some will hold on till the dead of winter, some will cast off sooner. But there are a few which, for one reason or other, loose their holds far too early. We have all known them, some we have loved.

Last Friday I received word that a dear friend from the summer of ’69 had passed away in 2005. This lively pixie who provoked me and loved me, who was so full of life and promise, had flown away in her late summer. I had been trying to find her for years but now it is forever too late.

While the leaves are still on the tree, enjoy them, appreciate them. Don’t arrive at winter’s solstice filled with vain regret. My friend’s name was Betty Shewmaker. She loved poetry and I wrote her many poems that summer and fall in the style of Rod McKuen, her favorite. So, one last poem, this one a sonnet, in memory and tribute to her, and in solemn reminder to us that the days are getting shorter.

It seems that scarce our summer ends

That autumn breaths her slow decline

Into the deep, whence winter’s winds

Consign us ‘neath the snows of time.

We run through springtime’s fleeting day,

Then strongly walk the breadth beyond;

Till soon, too soon, we stroll the way

Twixt when we are and when we’re gone.

But there are those who share their hearts

Mid springtime’s youth, in summer’s prime;

Who falter, fade and then depart

And leave their friends and loves behind.

Oh, one more time to see your face,

Just one last long and warm embrace.

May God bless your days while they are called today for "the dead know not any thing, neither have they any more a reward; for the memory of them is forgotten." Eccl. 9:5.

Don "Hoot" Miller

Travelogue #4--Leaving japan

Part of the class from Saniku Gauken. An outing to the ocean.

The school on Okinawa.

Dateline: Hofu, Japan; October 9, 2010—One week to go in Japan and then, after a long two day journey, I will begin work in the Philippines. Ah, the land of Jeepneys and baluts, bolos and carabaos. Spent some interesting time there many years ago with the Marines. But I am still in Japan.

I must say I made another attempt at climbing Mt. Fuji last month. After returning from Okinawa, we went almost immediately into a branch school at Kamikawa Genki Plaza, a place not too far from where the organization I work with now calls headquarters. It was a good school made all the better by the presence of some friends from Australia, Eldon and Marilene Stevenson. Great workers and native English speakers. Always a relief. They were going back to Australia on September 28 so Kayoko decided to take them on a little pleasure outing. A drive to three parks near Mt Fuji and even a drive up to the 5^th level. My chance.

The outing was planned for September 27. I had a lecture scheduled on the 26^th and the 29^th so I had a small window of opportunity. If they could drop me off on the afternoon of the 27^th at the 5^th level. I could climb as far as I wanted, rest a few hours and make the final assault to arrive at the summit at sunrise. That seems to be the goal on Fuji-san. That would be the 28^th. I would then come down as fast as possible, find a way to the Kawaguchiko train station and journey back to Tansho. This was my big and last chane of the year. Whereas the mountain was officially closed, you could still climb at your own risk.

Waking up at 03:30, I had my devotions, took a shower, made sure all my gear was ready, and then waited for the others to stir. I never for a moment let the fact that it was raining outside dampen my spirits. Fuji-san was a long ways off and the rain is often very local in Japan. Plus a little rain never hurt anyone, with the possible exception of the antediluvians, the wicked witch of the west and New Orleans.

It was about 06:30 I received a call from Kayoko telling me it was raining all the way to Fuji-san and the trip was off. Bummer! Next year.

On October 1 I flew to Kobe for a weekend series of meetings in Kobe and Himeji. I was housed in a hotel and treated to a boat tour of Kobe bay which was very nice. The meetings went very well and the last one on Sunday was great. But they had to hustle me out to catch a train to Yamaguchi. It was then I discovered my green Microsoft waist pack was missing. I searched my luggage as I had already checked out of the hotel ad it was no where to be found. They called the hotel and they assured us there was nothing left in the room. My problem was I didn’t remember what was in the pack and that is really worrisome. My hostess decided to take me to the hotel for a last try. No one there spoke English and I tried to make it known with arm and hand signals that I wanted to check the room. But it had already been cleaned and nothing was reported and believe me, the room was very small and so one look could capture the whole thing. Then my hostess showed up so the manager, with an air of “I’ll show ‘em”, took us up to the 10^th floor, opened the door with a flourish, and stood aside with a smug grin on his face. I walked in, took off my shoes (a must over here), went to the end of the bed and there, on the floor, was not the green waist pack but my large black backpack. If I was surprised the manager was in shock. "Gomennasai, gomennasai," was all he could say. But I was so thankful it was there.

The train ride to Yamaguchi took a few hours even though it was a bullet train. Very comfortable except for the fact I was wrestling my luggage during the evening commute. It was dark when I arrived at my destination and discovered a dilemma; you could exit in two different directions. Which one would Shige choose? was my question to myself. Taking the one nearest me, I made myself as visible as possible but no Shige. After being there about a half hour I did what I probably shouldn’t have done. I decided to drag my draggage (you no longer have to lug it so why call it luggage?) through a long tunnel to the other side. It was hot and there were stairs to navigate, but I emerged on the other side to a warm reception with no one. Again, I made myself as visible as possible to no avail. Then I made my second poor choice, perhaps. I decided to go back to the other side. But there seemed to be an alley on street level so I wouldn’t have to become subterranean again. It was a long alley with occasional lanes to the main road. Arriving at the end, I was not where I had hoped to be, that being where I had started from. So I walked all the way back to the stairs, went down, took the tunnel, and emerged on the other side with the firm resolve that I would spend the next two days on this side no matter what; I was not going to move again. It was about a half hour later Shige showed up. He had done the same dance but at last we were on our way.

I conducted a series of meetings in Yamaguchi and a few meetings in Hofu. Following my MO, I took a run one morning in Hofu. I like to run but as I already knew, you can’t run to the corner and turn right and right again and right again and be back home. So, I turned right, then left, then left again, crossed the canal and took off towards the mountains. It seemed so simple. Arriving at an unspecified halfway point, I began to retrace my steps. But when I came to the canal I thought it would be nice to run along side it for a while. Surely I would intersect the main road and be home in no time. When will I learn? The serpentine maze of streets, alleys, driveways and whatever can become really overwhelming. But at last I was on the right road and just up ahead was the street I was to turn left on and home and breakfast would be waiting. I turned left and found myself at a factory entrance. I sure am glad I love to run. Turning around, I explored a various streets, finally found a street that looked familiar, passed the same place twice, and happened upon the home street before my legs gave out.

From Yamaguchi I took a train to Oita and a place called Newstart Village. It really isn’t a village but a former silkworm farm converted into a lifestyle center and operated by a wisp of a woman named Yuko and her husband. They are always a delight and she is the busiest woman I have ever seen. They treat me like royalty and the food is the best. The “village” is squirreled so far back in the heavily forested hills that you can hear nothing from the outside. It is idyllic and a great place to end my Japanese leg of this current trip. I can run the narrow roads between the rice fields, breathe the unadulterated air, and sleep to nothing but the sounds of nature. I love it here. But my meetings were in Oita. A doctor I had met in Okinawa had recently moved to Oita and invited me to do some lectures. They were brand new ones I had never done before so I stayed busy in preparation. Lots of translating to be done. But the meetings went well as did the Sabbath meetings in the Oita church. Then I was done.

Now, I can’t recall if I told you where I was going next in a former post. From Japan I was scheduled to teach in the third module of our new medical missionary school just outside of Beijing, China. But difficulties there caused the module to be moved to February. But my ticket was purchased; what to do? I sent out three emails, one to Aenon in Malaysia, where I taught last year; and one to LIGHT coordinator James Hartley. Aenon replied they were in the middle of a major move to a new campus but could find something for me to do. LIGHT said there was a need for a teacher of Daniel and Last Day Events in the Philippines. Utility or Urgency? was the question. I took Urgency over Utility and signed on for a month in the Philippines.

But I had a ticket to Beijing. To cancel it would cost me a lot of money and a ticket to Manila was cheaper from Beijing than from Tokyo. So, tomorrow, October 18 I begin the journey. Car to bus in Oita; bus to airport; fly to Hanada; bus to Narita; fly to Beijing; fitful night in airport; fly to Hong Kong; fly to Manila; car to bus station; 12-hour bus ride to school in northern Luzon. “If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy right hand shall hold me.” Psalm 139:9,10.

I have no idea if I will have email access where I am going, so if not, you will hear from me again from the Big Island of Hawaii. Aloha.