In Japan, the second Monday of January is "Coming of Age Day", and is celebrated as a National Holiday.
All young people reaching 20 years of age during the current year celebrate officially becoming adults by taking part in city-sponsored ceremonies and numerous private events.
These new "adults" no longer require parental consent for signing contracts, deciding where to live, getting married, and so on.
It’s an important, once-in-a-lifetime event calling for special clothing... and meticulous hair.
These days, most young men wear Western-style formal suits for the celebration day. However, some still wear the traditional dark kimono with hakama, and a few even go with bolder colors.
Photo Credit: Japan Times
The young women wear a special kimono with long sleeves called a “Furisode”. These kimonos are usually brightly colored and covered with striking patterns. They’re beautiful. And, they’re expensive.
Photo Credit: "Tokyo Fashion"
In the “old days” parents and grand-parents would often buy the furisode kimonos as a gift for the young women, but these days most furisode are borrowed from older relatives or rented just for the day.
These kimonos are multi-layered with a complex obi that ties at the back, and are difficult to wear properly without experienced help. So, the full furisode rental package usually comes with a “dresser”, as well as bookings with professional hair & make-up salons, and a session at a photo studio.
A full furisode rental package can cost thousands of dollars and reservations must usually be made at least a year in advance.
Back in 2013, as an on-going joke, I used to tease our daughter about her upcoming “Furi-Soda Day”. I even went so far as to create a CG mock-up of a “Furi-Soda” can.
"Furi-Soda" can using an image of a model from the internet.
In January of 2022, I came across that old “Furi-Soda” image and thought, “I can do better than that”, and created this short animation using images from our daughter’s “Coming of Age Day” photo shoot in 2013.
Furi-Soda Houdini/Redshift
The animation was sent to our daughter, informing her of the new drink brand being sold at 7-11 convenience stores throughout Japan.
Unfortunately, participation in “Coming of Age Day” ceremonies has been declining steadily over the years, along with the wearing of kimonos. And, as of April 1st of 2022, the “age of consent” in Japan will be lowered from 20 to 18.
This is causing additional confusion regarding the future of the holiday, and great concern among the kimono industry that makes a large portion of its yearly income from the furisode kimonos worn during the celebrations.
Posted: November 23, 2021
Mr. Montie Brewer President & CEO, Air Canada Air Canada Centre 7373 Cote-Vertu West Dorval, Quebec H4Y 1H4
May 3, 2008
Re: Fuel Leak, AC Flight 36, April 27 2008
Dear Mr. Brewer,
I am writing in regard to a fuel leak incident that occurred on Air Canada flight 36 scheduled to depart Kansai International airport for Vancouver at 5:15 P.M. on Sunday, April 27th 2008. I am the passenger who notified the flight crew about the leak.
The aircraft, (a Boeing 767), was holding on the taxiway near the end of the runway and was, (I believe), next in position for take-off. I was on the right side of the cabin, seated at the window in row 29, seat K, slightly behind the wing. It was at this time that I first noticed fluid leaking from the wing about 3 meters inboard of the wing tip.
Initially I assumed the fluid was condensation. However, realizing that the aircraft had already been on the ground for several hours, and seeing how the fluid flow was considerable and concentrated in one area of the wing it seemed unlikely to be condensation. I then became concerned the wing may be leaking hydraulic fluid since the flaps had recently been lowered for take-off.
I decided to immediately contact the flight crew. So, from my seat, (because we were buckled in and prepared for take-off), I searched the cabin for a flight attendant. I couldn't see any of the crew so I activated the flight attendant call button at my seat.
I don’t know how long I waited but, (under the circumstances it seemed like a very long time), no flight attendant responded to the call. I then unbuckled my seat belt and went to the back of the aircraft where I located two flight attendants and informed them, “It might not be anything serious, but there’s fluid coming out of the right wing.”
One of the flight attendants came back with me to my seat to have a look. She said it was probably just condensation but it would be best to notify the flight deck anyway. Soon after, the first officer came back to have a look at the fluid leaking from the wing. He said it might be condensation as well, but after carefully studying the leak and it’s location on the wing he seemed less certain and returned to the cockpit.
Shortly after, the flaps were raised and the aircraft turned around and headed back to the gate to check out what was announced as, "a possible mechanical problem”.
A couple of minutes after reaching the gate the first officer appeared on the tarmac and approached the puddle of liquid that had now formed under the right wing. He put his finger in the liquid, smelled it, and confirmed it was jet fuel. This started a scramble among the gathered ground crew who immediately brought in portable fire fighting equipment, fuel absorbing pads, a scissor-lift truck, and finally, a fire truck.
After arriving back at the gate.
After arriving back at the gate.
After arriving back at the gate.
The passengers were asked to disembark from the aircraft and wait inside the departure lounge at the gate. On the way out of the aircraft a few of the passengers thanked me and the flight attendant introduced me to Captain Clair Maynard, who shook my hand and also thanked me for noticing the leak and notifying the flight crew.
About an hour later, in the departure lounge, I was again speaking with Captain Maynard, who then introduced me to first officer Greg Margharitis. They both informed me that the fuel leak was indeed a serious issue and, again, how grateful they were that I had notified the flight crew.
View from departure lounge.
View from departure lounge.
After waiting in the departure lounge of the gate for almost 3 hours we were finally informed that flight 36 was cancelled and re-scheduled to depart the next day at 2:00 P.M. as flight 2036.
By 8:50 P.M. we had cleared immigration and customs and were back in the arrivals lobby of the airport at the end of a very long line of passengers waiting to be assigned hotel accommodations for the night. We were tired and hungry, and since my wife’s mother lives in Nishinomiya, (near Osaka), we thought it would be simpler if we stayed with her for the night. My wife went to the counter to inform the agents that we had a place to stay nearby and didn’t need a hotel, and would like to confirm we would be compensated for bus fare and meals. She was rudely told to get back in line.
Passengers waiting in long, long, line for hotel accomodations.
After another half hour of waiting in a line that barely moved, my wife went to the counter again. This time another agent told her it was “good news” we didn’t need a hotel and immediately confirmed that Air Canada would reimburse us for the bus fare, but not for any meals. By now it was almost 9:30 P.M. One of the last buses for Nishinomiya was about to leave the airport and we just wanted to get “home”, have something to eat, and go to bed. So, we left the airport.
We arrived in Nishinomiya before 11:00 P.M. We were too tired to eat at a restaurant so we bought two instant meals at a 7-11 convenience store and had those for dinner.
The next day my wife and I returned to Kansai International airport to check-in for our 2:00 P.M. flight to Vancouver.
I have to admit I was expecting some kind of recognition or expression of gratitude from Air Canada for what I had done the previous day. Perhaps upgrades to executive class, a voucher for future free flights, anything. The agent at the counter did reimburse us for our bus fare, a total of about $60.00, but refused to pay for our 7-11 meals, a total of about $20.00. After we complained, she took us to her supervisor, who also refused. After more complaining we were finally, grudgingly, reimbursed for our meals.
We completed our check-in, cleared immigration, and boarded our flight without further incident. During the flight several of the flight attendants thanked me again for spotting the leak the previous day, and after landing in Vancouver I was admitted into the cockpit to have photos taken with the captain, first officer, and relief pilot. All expressed their gratitude for my actions.
With Captain Clair Maynard, First Officer Greg Margharitis, & relief pilot.
It’s hard to speculate what may have happened had we departed on that flight over the Pacific in an aircraft leaking fuel.
Since arriving home I have been expecting Air Canada to contact me and acknowledge their appreciation for my role in keeping that flight from leaving the ground. I have yet to hear anything from your company.
On a positive note, I have to give my highest praise to the flight crew. Everyone from the captain to the flight attendants handled this unusual situation coolly and professionally. They all deserve our respect.
On the other hand, my experience with the agents managing the passengers once they were off the plane was disappointing. It seemed as if they had never handled a cancelled flight before and were confused about the procedures. I hope passengers on future cancelled flights from Kansai will be treated better.
Please feel free to contact me if you have any questions or comments about this incident.
Sincerely,
Floyd Gillis
Follow-up: Several months after sending this letter, I received vouchers worth $2,000.00 for travel on Air Canada. Thank you Air Canada.
Posted: November 20, 2021
My wife and my son's girlfriend met for the first time in December of 2019.
I suspect they both had reservations about each other, but after a lengthy talk during a walk to and from our local Shinto Shrine, they warmed-up and finally signalled mutual respect.
The "Brag-Fest": Getting to know each other
A week or so later our son made the mistake of informing us that his girlfriend called his mom a "badass".
We all understood this as an great compliment, except for my wife, who wasn't familiar with the expression.
She was furious, and it took a while to convince her it wasn't an insult but, instead, an extreme compliment. She finally calmed down and, with some skepticism, accepted our assurances it was indeed a compliment.
A little over a year later I was doing the NY Times crossword puzzle and came across a clue/answer combination I knew my wife would like.
I showed it to her, and saw all her concerns about that "badass insult" vanish.
1A: Badass
Posted: September 22, 2020
I owned my first typewriter, (the cheapest Smith-Corona portable available at the time), while still in high-school. It was a birthday present from my parents.
Smith Corona "Cougar"
At the time, I was in grade 8 and enduring weekly typing classes taught by Brother Noonan. He would hover over our shoulders eagerly waiting to apply painful raps to our knuckles with a wooden ruler for incorrect finger placement, typing errors, or low WPM counts.
The Smith Corona “Cougar” was a piece of crap compared to the typewriters we were using at school. So, I visited various shops and department stores looking for something, similar in price to the Cougar, that might be better.
I finally came across the Royal “Swinger”. It seemed better built and it’s key action was much smoother than my Smith Corona.
The Royal "Swinger"
I asked my parents to return the Smith Corona to the store so I could use the refund to buy a better typewriter. They didn’t want to go through all the trouble, so I had to plead and beg and explain why the Swinger was so much better than the Cougar, and at the same price, too!
After several days of relentless pestering they finally seemed to be giving in. That’s when I pounced with the “coup de grâce” reason I’d been saving to finally win them over, "THE ROYAL SWINGER ALSO COMES WITH AN AM RADIO BUILT INTO THE CASE!" (Now, that oughta do it.)
They rolled their eyes, and I immediately realized what a ridiculous reason I’d given for choosing a typewriter.
Even so, a few days later, they returned the Cougar, gave me the full refund, and I was able to buy the Swinger.
It was a much better machine than the Smith Corona and I happily used it all through high school.
I used the AM radio once or twice, but abandoned it almost immediately because my musical tastes had already moved on to what was playing on FM radio at the time.
As for Brother Noonan and his grade 8 typing class, I didn’t enjoy it at the time, but was pleasantly surprised to find how useful my typing skills would become when, years later, I transitioned to using computers. Thank you Brother Noonan.
Br. W. G. Noonan, C.F.C. B.A., M.A., Religion, Typing
Posted: November 22, 2019
Pink Dobie was a pseudonym for Floyd Gillis.
It was derived by combining the name of the English rock band “Pink Floyd” with the name of a character in the old American TV sitcom, “The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis”.
Pink Floyd + Dobie Gillis = Floyd Gillis
Pink Dobie
The “logo image” above is a mash-up of the famous cover art from Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” album released in 1973 and the face of “Maynard G. Krebs”, the beatnik character played by actor Bob Denver in the sitcom that aired on CBS from 1959 to 1963. (Denver later went on to play Gilligan on "Gilligan's Island").
The concept behind this logo-image is: A simple idea filtered through the genius of "Pink Dobie" will be transformed into, ahem, a brilliant work of art. (We’re still waiting for that to happen.)
Dwayne Hickman was the actor who played the title role on “Dobie Gillis”. However, I didn't use his face in the logo-image because Bob Denver’s “beatnik” character is far more interesting, and immediately identifiable with the TV show.
It started like any other day, with my usual walk down Second Avenue from 79th Street to my office on East 46th Street.
Somewhere in the 50’s things changed.
Sirens started wailing and all types of emergency vehicles, (including those ominous black SUVs with blacked-out windows), raced past me on their way downtown, and the sky started filling with police and news helicopters, the usual sign that something newsworthy was going on.
Looking down Second Avenue I could see a large plume of smoke starting to drift from West to East and assumed it was from a fire in a high-rise or office building somewhere in the 20’s or 30’s.
After getting to the office I turned on the TV to see if there was any coverage of the fire.
There was.
The fire was in the North tower of the World Trade Center. The networks were scrambling for details and at one point mistakenly reported that a small, general aviation aircraft, (like those always flying up and down the Hudson), had accidentally struck the tower.
Then, the second plane hit.
Things changed.
Again.
I called my wife to see if she was aware of what was happening, and to make sure our kids were safe at school. Then I went back to the TV and remained transfixed by what was taking place just a short distance away downtown.
The South tower fell.
It was horrifying and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It took a while, but I finally turned off the TV knowing I had to leave the office, take my kids home from school and be with the family.
On my way up Second Avenue, the streets were eerily free of traffic. A car was stopped at a strange angle to the curb with its doors wide open and a cluster of people standing around gravely listening to the car radio.
The first “ghosts” appeared. People covered in white dust from the collapse of the South tower walking zombie-like uptown. Were they going home or just wondering aimlessly, “away”?
On the sidewalk outside a coffee shop a man with a cellphone to his ear was frozen in place. Then, without any expression, he turned to the people inside and held up two fingers. Then he rotated his hand and pointed down with one finger. That’s when I knew the North tower had just collapsed.
It still amazes me that an event of such scale could be so clearly communicated with a quick little gesture of one hand.
Two Down
Posted: February 20, 2011
In August of 2010 I joined a 10,000 member choir to sing in Beethoven’s 9th Symphony at a concert to be held in Osaka-Jo Hall later in December. My singing voice wasn’t what it used to be, but I really enjoyed the weekly practices, and always loved this symphony.
Photo from the 2010 Daiku program
My love of “The Ninth” began when I was 15 and first saw Stanley Kubrick’s “A Clockwork Orange” while on an overnight trip to Seattle with our parish priest, (who, years later, was confirmed to be a pedophile). My friend and I slipped away from the priest in the afternoon and were somehow allowed into the theater to see this “restricted” movie.
The music, with excerpts of “The Ninth”, was wonderful! Or, as Alex would say, "Bliss. Bliss and heaven."
But I digress.
My weekly choir practice was held near Umeda Station in Osaka with a group of about 400 people. I was the only gaijin, (foreigner), and I didn’t understand any of the instructions except for which page to be on.
Each week the choir-master, Kyohara-san, set aside some time to go over the proper pronunciation of the German lyrics, and one week he was focusing on “Freude”, as in… "Freude, schöner Götterfunken Tochter aus Elysium."
Everyone was doing their best to pronounce "Freude", but it wasn't going too well.
After a while the choir-master stopped everyone and acknowledged that the “Frrr” sound was extremely difficult for Japanese people to pronounce. He then pointed to me and said something about a Canadian in the group named “Floyd” and how it might be helpful for everyone to practice pronouncing his name, instead.
That’s how I ended up in the middle of 400 Japanese men and women, all facing me and chanting, "Furoido! Furoid! Froyd! Freude!"
10,000 member choir arriving at Osaka-Jo Hall
10,000 member choir during the concert
Post Update: November 13, 2021
I enjoyed taking part in these concerts and joined the choir for every "Daiku" from 2010 to 2019.
Unfortunately, the 2020 & 2021 concerts were cancelled due of COVID, but I'm looking forward to the possiblity of once-again taking part in "Daiku" in 2022.
Choir practice for the 2019 concert. Nishinomiya classes.
Outside Osaka-Jo Hall. 2019 concert.
Still frame from the MBS broadcast of the 2019 concert.
Multiple "Curtain Calls" at the conclusion of the 2019 concert.
For an immersive 360° excerpt from the 2017 concert, visit: Daiku 360
For more information (Japanese only), visit: Suntory Daiku
Posted: October 30, 2010
In December of 2009 I was invited to visit the home of my friend’s parents in the Okuike neighborhood of Ashiya, near Kobe. Their parents had recently moved to a new house several blocks away in the same neighborhood.
Before going to their new home my friend took me to see their old house. The Tudor-style building was large, well maintained, and had a traditional Japanese-style garden in the back.
Other than that, it wasn't unique.
The Tudor-style house
However, right next door was an amazing concrete and glass structure beautifully integrated into the side of the hill.
The house next door
I was curious about its origins, (and had my suspicions as to who the architect was), and was anxious to find out more about the building.
Later, I asked my friend’s father about his former neighbor’s house and what he knew about it, but he just gave me a confused look. He was a very conservative 82 year-old with a firm sense of what a house should look like.
I asked him again, trying to be as clear as possible, about the concrete house that was next door to his old home.
Then he remembered, and with a dismissive wave of his hand said, “Oh that. They never finished it. Those are just the foundations.”
My friend "R.M." arranged a private tour of the gallery, and on May 14, 2021 we visited Koshino House together.
Main Entrance
Hallway and master bedroom
Kitchen and dining area
Hiroko Koshino raised her children in this house. Some of her family's heights are recorded on a cement column near the kitchen.
Getting the tour. Thank you Tahara-san.
Posted: October 16, 2010
In 1967 McDonald’s opened their first restaurant outside the United States in Richmond, a suburb of Vancouver. I was eleven years old and painfully aware of all I’d been missing from the years of McDonald’s commercials I’d seen on American TV.
Mid-1960's McDonald's commercial on American TV
It wasn’t long before I made the pilgrimage to Richmond for my first McDonald’s hamburger.
Years later, when my parents finally bought a car, there was nothing the family enjoyed more than driving to a McDonald’s, picking up our order, and finding a spot in the parking lot where we would all sit in the car eating burgers, fries, apple pies, and drinking cokes from a straw.
I loved the food at McDonald’s, especially their Big Mac. It became a part of my regular routine to eat lunch or breakfast at a McDonald’s at least once or twice a week. I continued this routine even after moving to New York in the early eighties. No matter where I lived or worked in the city there was always a McDonald’s within easy walking distance.
In the late 90’s my office was located on East 46th Street between First and Second Avenue, and “my” McDonald’s was located on the corner of East 39th Street and Second Avenue. I liked this location because it had large dining areas on the main floor and in the basement, so I was always able to have my own table and enjoy a relaxing lunch reading the newspaper.
The McDonald's that used to be located at Second Avenue and 39th Street
One day, I picked up my usual Big Mac, large fries and small coke and, seeing the upstairs seating area was full, headed downstairs to have lunch in the basement. The basement was also quite full but I managed to find an empty table.
Just as I sat down and started to settle-in I was struck by a horrible smell.
I quickly checked the people sitting around me to see if any of them were the source, (this was New York City, after all).
The stench became nauseating and I realized it was the reek of raw sewage when I saw plumbers through the open door of the men’s room at the other end of the basement struggling to fix a major “problem”.
Sewer Burger
It was sickening and I had to get out. I grabbed everything, and on my way upstairs looked back and was stunned to see that no one else in the basement dining area seemed to notice the smell. They all blissfully continued eating their hamburgers and fries and drinking their sodas… in that sewer.
I probably should have complained and demanded my money back but, instead, I threw everything in the garbage and went back to the office.
Since that day, I stopped eating at McDonald’s and other fast-food “restaurants”. The smell of “Special Sauces” mixed with grilling hamburgers and deep-frying french fries, which used to whet my appetite, was now, and forever, associated with the stench of raw sewage.
It’s a shame to lose something you once enjoyed, but I know I’m much healthier now because of that change in diet made many years ago.
Posted: October 20, 2005
I have only been in two physical fights in my life.
One “fight” happened in high school when I (kinda) punched Grant Warwick in the side of the head when he was picking on my friend Greg Girrard. All three of us were shocked by this, and after blankly staring at each other for a moment or two, went our separate ways without saying a word.
The other fight was with Bobby White. It was a vicious battle of punching, kicking, swearing and wrestling. Our clothes were ripped and filthy and we ended up with black eyes, swollen lips, and various cuts and bruises.
We were both in grade two, at Guardian Angels School, and were fighting in the schoolyard during recess over who had been an altar boy the longest.
Of course, I was an altar boy the longest. Don’t believe anything Bobby might try to tell you to the contrary.
Guardian Angels Altar Boys (early 1960's)
Posted: October 20, 2005
Several years ago in Manhattan there was a tragic accident when a restaurant delivery boy, riding his bicycle on the sidewalk, hit an old man. The man hit his head on the concrete and died. There was an outcry against bicycles on the sidewalk, and a ban was put into effect and strictly enforced by the police.
Shortly after the ban, I was walking along East 79th Street towards Central Park with my 7 year-old son pedaling slowly beside me on his bicycle. Several people yelled at him to get his bicycle off the sidewalk and ride it on the street.
We ignored them.
NYC Streets
About a year later there was an interesting article in the New York Times. Apparently, police and city officials were baffled by the sharp rise in the number of injuries and deaths of New York City cyclists during the previous 12 months.
Posted: October 19, 2005
I was lamenting the spread of crass commercialization in amateur and professional sports. Do athletes and teams play for their home towns or their corporate sponsors?
Company logos and slogans cover uniforms, equipment, and playing surfaces.
The grandly named stadiums and events of old have been replaced by commercial messages like… “The Continental Tire Bowl at the Bank of America Stadium”.
It’s disgusting.
Major Football Event Logos
Then I remembered playing little league baseball in the mid 60’s.
The first team I played for was the “3 Vets”. Our sponsor was a local clothing store, and we had a big “3 Vets” logo on our uniform.
The second team I played for was “The Texans”. Our sponsor was a local fast food restaurant, and we had a big “Texan” logo on our uniform. Whenever our team won a game we could go to the Texan restaurant for a free hamburger and pop.
I wasn’t playing baseball for my team, my neighborhood, or my town… I was playing for hamburgers.
