Departures is a film directed by Yojiro Takita. It is a simple, but elegant, story that won the 2009 Oscar for best foreign language film. Be forewarned. There are no scenes of violence, crashes, bombs, car chases, or graphic sex, but there are scenes of death. Essentially, the movie is about people and their humanity. The main character is Daigo Kobayashi. He is a cellist. When his orchestra is dissolved, he decides that he is not talented enough to continue his career as a professional musician. Because they cannot afford to live in Tokyo, he tells his wife Mika that they will move back to his hometown.  Mika supports Daigo wholeheartedly, but she is upset to learn that he had recently bought a high-priced cello without first talking with her. Finding work is difficult for Daigo because he has no skills besides playing his cello. He reads a newspaper ad for an agent who assists with departures. No experience necessary. Daigo thinks that it may be a job with a travel agency so he app

I woke up feeling down this morning. Actually, I went to sleep feeling down. I was also feeling a sense of devastation for no obvious reason. To keep the ya-ya's at bay, I played Bejeweled Blitz at Facebook for a long while. Of course, it didn't work.  I  told myself to do something constructive such as add stuff that I've been avoiding to do on my to-do list.  And do them. Or, at least take care of the things that are still on that list. I didn't even try to find my to-do list. I thought about doing something healthy and frolicky such as  walking over to the quilt shop and buying a couple of cheerful looking fat quarters. But, should I be spending money that way? Besides, it looked like it might rain. Then we received our mail. Amongst it was a handprinted envelope, which the husband thought was a wedding invitation. An assumption, he said, because there was no return address. But it was a card from Rabobank where we had opened a new account a few months back. "We

If you ask the mama how old she is, she will usually say, "I'm 100 years old." And, depending on who you are, she might give you a smile or a look that tells you she thinks you're a moron. So, how old is the mama? She has told me not to tell. But I can say that the mama is 30-some years older than me, and I'm already considered a senior by AARP. Age does not slow the mama down. The weather does. First it was rain, now it's the chilly wind that keeps her from spending all day playing outside in her garden patches. I'm grateful for that. The cold weather, that is. It buys the husband and me time to figure out how to prep a smaller vegetable garden space without it being too obvious. Her vegetable garden, you see, is practically the whole back yard. When the husband and I first moved in with the mama, we made a point of staying out of her garden. It is her domain, her zen, her centering place. With each year, though, I've been casually going out there a b

I now sweep the kitchen floor after dinner while the husband washes the dishes. I used to do it in the morning. That is when I remembered. Most mornings, I didn't. Until recently I rarely swept the kitchen floor in the evening because I was taught to not do that unless something bad happened such as a glass broke on the floor.  So, what changed? I read an article about 10 good cleaning habits to have, of which one was sweeping the kitchen floor after dinner. Made sense. No stepping on crumbs or unpopped popcorn first thing in the morning. The other evening the mama caught me sweeping the kitchen floor. Just as I thought she would, she said, "It's bad luck to sweep at night." "Why?" I asked. She didn't respond. She just left the kitchen. I doubt she has an answer for that or any of her  superstitions.  I think grownups taught her superstitions when she was a kid as a way of getting her to obey. I also think that she made up her own to control my actions m

I woke up to the sounds of doves cooing outside and the husband snoring next to me. Signs of a blooming bright day? Sure. Why not? Happy Valentine's Day, Dear Gentle Readers!

This afternoon, the husband and I went downtown to do a couple of errands. It was a beautiful afternoon, so we ambled between places. The best part of the walk was peering into store fronts. A woman was knitting inside a beauty shop, a little girl was doodling on paper in a restaurant, and a barber was sitting in his chair reading the paper. All three looked up as we passed by. Each one smiled and waved back at us. Smiling and waving at people who you don't know just makes the day more delightful.