My cousin Ishumi is getting married on the full moon night in June, just happening to be in the same week that our Concert Tour was taking a break between Toronto and Montreal. I'd really hoped to get out of going to that particular wedding but it's such a big family event that I was more or less forced to fly to Seattle for that week. Pokey came with me for immoral support. We flew on Sunday; plan to return to Toronto on Friday. Our band has been touring for a month so everyone is ready for a break anyway. Adam and his two squatch lovers are off to find some Nokhons for a kha-rat. Without us, thank God. Melly and Lissandra are going with Mike to visit Cuba (which I would much rather have done). Scott has already flown home to LA to visit wife and kids; Charlie is going back to Indianapolis to spend time with his new maybe girl friend, Anne. Most of the roadies will just be hanging out around Toronto because it's a nice warm summer and there are lots of beaches. But Pokey and I: we got family duty. We landed at Sea-tac Airport late Sunday. My family had wanted to pick us up-- well, me, but not Pokey --which was problematic so we had arranged for Art to come with the van and take us home to the Hacienda in Monroe, where we'd spend the night. But I had to promise my parents that I'd come home to them on Mercer Island by Monday afternoon to take part in all the pre-wedding hysteria. Coming home to the Hacienda is always a special thing when I compare it with going home to my parent's house on Mercer Island. Everybody at the Hacienda loves each other and they say so; no one ever talks about love in the Yoshido home. Pokey and I usually help making dinner for up to 15 dinner guests, humans and squatches, we often laugh and sing while working. Actually, it's a lot like that when we camp out while on the Concert Tour, that's usually fun too. Dinner at my own family's house is rarely fun. Pokey and I have a big teepee set up beside the Mother's Meadow. It felt so good to be inside it once again, all by ourselves at last. Our own home. Our closest neighbors are the squatches at the "Refugee Camp". There was a tingling in the air, no doubt because the kha-rat was only three days away and the female squatches would start flowing shyøma any moment now. But we couldn't wait for that, we were ready for each other and made love once we were barely inside. Then, once we had frantically taken care of that, Pokey had to go check out his language school and I helped Elaine make some campesino clothes for the new Nokhons that had shown up. It was nice being there, immediately back into the swing of things, being productive, feeling happy about the life we were living. Especially when I compare it to the life I'd grown up in: sterile Mercer Island, ancient Japanese traditions in conflict with modern America, an authoritarian father and servile mother, two unbearably bratty sisters. A cute little brother, though. My Japanese-American family, the Yoshidos, have been part of Seattle's Japanese community for three generations, so my own grandparents had experienced the injustices of the Japanese Internment Camps during WWII. America was at war with Japan and since everyone of Nihon ancestry just might happen to be spies, over 125,000 innocent people were put into concentration camps, their homes and businesses confiscated. I've heard that it is considered America's absolute worst violation of constitutional rights, since two-thirds of the incarcerated were 2nd generation United States Citizens. And it wasn't just that they were isolated for reasons of national security, they were also constantly being deliberately abused by racist guards. A true scandal. When all of that was over, only six actual spies were accounted for, all of them Caucasian. Later, there were apologies and retribution payments, but many Japanese Americans came to hate the USA for unmitigated racism and good old Nazi behavior. My father, Yoshido Shoichi, is one of them. Even though he is too young to have ever been a prisoner in some camp, (having been born in 1965, 20 years after the last camps closed), he'd heard about it in great detail from his father and mother, who had seven sons and three daughters. They had lost their successful fish cannery and become impoverished, so the entire family had been very bitter. My father therefore feels that he has lived all his life in enemy country. He considers the USA to be an evil nation and Japan to be the ideal society, although he's never once lived there. He's never even visited Japan as a tourist, probably because he's afraid of being disappointed in his perfect Utopia. Hey, even I've had more experience with Japan than he has: having spent a year in Kyoto as an exchange student when I was 14. I loved it. Anyway, so the older generations of the Yoshido family have mostly hated this country, but the next generation has been more successful because of the $20,000 they had each received from the government in retribution for unconstitutional incarcerations. My father and his six brothers invested together in a new fish cannery in Seattle and now they're all more or less rich. But several of my uncles still resent this country anyway. You have to get to my generation before we feel more like modern Americans than disgruntled Japanese patriots. The seven Yoshido brothers and three sisters have had lots of kids, some grandkids, I'd guess about 50. I'm one of them, and so is my cousin Ishumi, who is getting married tomorrow. Not that she and I have ever been especially close, even though we went to the same schools and were always jammed together at family gatherings (which could sometimes be well over 100 people). She's always been a little too snooty and spoiled for me, probably because her folks are a little bit richer than mine. I won't say I dislike her, but I can't really say that I do like her either. It doesn't help that she's getting married to Nokamura Sadahiko, my very first boyfriend, the only "lover" I'd ever had until I met Pokey. Not that I'm jealous, ohmygod no, I'm totally in love with Pokey. It's more that I fucking hate Sadahiko and would not wish him on Ishumi, even if she is a bit of a bitch. Because he beats women. At least he sure beat me up a few times, until I moved away to college in Bellingham to get away from him. One major family problem has been that my father wanted me to marry Sadahiko because he's the son of an especially rich business acquaintance. My father thinks there would be certain commercial advantages for us to be in family with the Nokamuras. Yes, he wants to sell me off, of course, otherwise what's the use of having a daughter? But Sadahiko is really an asshole, or he was when I knew him. Actually, I never even liked him, he just sort of claimed me as his possession. He had once been the judo champion in high school; it was his thing, to the point of obsession. I assume that now, years later, he is still very proud of his judo skills and uses them sometimes to show that he's still got the moves. Sometimes people-- that is, girls and women --got hurt. He didn't beat up men so much because they fight back. Unless they're smaller than him, then he might go for it. Sadahiko was a classic bully, basically a cruel person. Or maybe I'm just a bitter unforgiving bitch, I certainly sound like one. To be fair I should admit that both he and I were very young--just 17. He may have grown up since then, just like me. Hope so. Being dragged along to this wedding, Pokey is a little anxious about meeting my perhaps nasty ex-boyfriend because he feels maybe he is required to PUNISH the bastard in some way for having hurt me. But he's also a teensy-bit concerned about the "Judo Champion" part. "Judo is the wrestling form of martial art, right?" he asks, "not punching bricks, right?" I told him he'd better save his aggressions for fighting my father instead. That was supposed to be a joke, but Pokey and my father do not get along. They've only met a couple of times before, both formal and stiff. My father hates white Americans for being racist, but he hates all other non-white people even more. Blacks, Latinos, Chinese. But Indians are extra-subhuman, just like sasquatches, so we're off to a good start. I've agreed to be staying at my parent's house for three days (Monday Tuesday Wednesday), my little sacrifice for the family harmony. But although Pokey will be allowed to attend the wedding, he'll have to sleep back at the Hacienda. It would be improper for him to be near me at night, even though they know we live together and are lovers. Good thing it's not such a long drive back and forth from Monroe. Thirty miles each way, half an hour. Oh well, it's only three days, we can handle that. I would much rather have stayed in Monroe, but unflinching social duty is the whole point with the Yoshido family. My parents insisted I be there or we would "lose face in the community"; you know how those Orientals are. I was just lucky that the wedding is this week we have off. At least I can spend some time with my two sisters, Kumi and Reiko, 15 and 18 years old. And also my little-brat brother, Taky, 11 years old. None of us have ever been close, but I'd like to change that. At 22 I am the oldest and should therefore be a role model for my younger siblings. But unfortunately, they are all under the thumbs of our strict and traditional parents, so I'm the black sheep instead. They've been warned not to turn out like me: living in sin with an aborigine, associating with Bigfoot monsters, contributing to the noise of a decadent rock and roll band. Big sister Maki is a Bad Example! It's only Monday now, two more days until the wedding, then I'm free. Hope I survive.
Tuesday morning, 2nd of June, Hacienda, Monroe-- Man, it's always good to come back to the Hacienda after being away for a month. I've missed my students, teaching those stupid Nokhons to speak comprehensible English is the most Herculean challenge I may ever be any good at. I drove Maki to her folk's house on Mercer Island yesterday, there by 10:00 pm Monday as promised. Her mother was almost civil to me because I had delivered her innocent child to them from out of my evil & perverted red-skinned grasp. Then she immediately asked me to leave because this day was only for women: bridesmaid's costume fittings, a brunch party, bridal shower, cocktails later, la-dee da-dee dah. Well, it is a wedding, after all, so I guess some of the shit has to be girls-only. Thank God. But I'm supposed to show up tomorrow for some kind of Japanese cultural thing-amajig, guess I'll see what then. So I hit it out of there, glad to go, but hoping I wasn't abandoning Maki to a fate worse than rotten sushi. This must be the first time Maki and I have been apart for... months. I can't stay with her at her parent's because that might be sin (definitely would, I bet). Okay, I can understand that, my parents used to be that way too at first, but they were just being fundamentalist Christians, not racists. In fact, now they love Maki and are really happy for us as a couple. Not like Maki's folks, who obviously dislike me. Well, fuck 'em. But it's no problem: we can endure a few nights of chastity, just like you're supposed to before a kha-rat, which will be in 2 nights. But no kha-rat for us this month, Maki and I are going to be stuck in a big fat Japanese wedding instead of fucking our brains out on the Mother's Meadow lawn. Good thing we did all that Sunday night and Monday morning, building up a buffer against horniness. It may not have worked, but it was fun to try. So I had a day off all to myself: I could have continued driving on into Seattle and spend the day hanging out, going to the Pike Street Market, finding an interesting lunch at the Food Circus, checking out bars on 1st Avenue, all those things I used to do back when I was a fully functioning alcoholic. Seems to be no point in that now. I did think about looking for a car, checking out the used car lots on Aurora Boulevard; still haven't bought one even though I can easily afford it now. Oh, I still love my big Honda 680cc motorcycle, but it wasn't usable that day since Maki had two big suitcases of wedding gifts. We wanted to borrow Melly's nice little BMW Z4 Roadster, which is always fun to drive (yes, yes, Melly said I could) but it's not much better than the motorcycle for transporting big clumps of luggage. So we ended up driving around in Lissandra's beat-up old Toyota. Practical, zero thrill. Yes, I should get around to finding myself a car. But for now all I really want to do is get back to my classroom, teaching squatches to speak English. Shit, when I think how much I messed around in school when it was me who had to learn stuff... yeah, shit. It has obviously become a calling for me, so I drove straight back to the Hacienda and got back to work for the rest of the day. I have four squatches today, three males, one female, all newcomers in from the woods within the last week, just starting out to learn English. Art has been teaching them while I've been away, but he has some NNP business to attend to so he's glad I can take over for a few days. By the way, our 12-year old Mexican runaway, Roberto, is still making himself useful by teaching squatches English too, and seems to be pretty good at it. But he’s got less time for that now since he’s been enrolled in Monroe High School. We usually start newcomers off with the video presentations: Adam explaining the basics of English language, a starting vocabulary, and pronunciation techniques. It's all so new to them; they become fascinated by the moving images and absorb the sound of words almost hypnotically due to a rhythmic repetition. Yeah, it's technology, which squatches are afraid of but they are also impressed by it. Works pretty good. Having said that, it's not so many squatches who actually manage to become fluent-- like Masnia, for example (but we all agree that she's a freak...oh, hi, Masnia, just kidding). We start off with the most useful phrases for dealing with NokhSos here and now, a pidgin English. Like "don't shoot, please, I mean you no harm". Most of them can learn phrases, they're intelligent people. Especially if we reward them with ice cream. It's basic, but it works. And maybe they don't get shot.
Okay now I'm in the Mead Hall writing my... oh-oh... One of our new young somewhat cute squatch chicks just passed by: the first whiffs of shyøma have arrived. Along with three days of unendurable celibacy, according to squatch rules. Of course, Maki and I tend to ignore that rule, since we're not squatches. But she's not here. If she was I'd yøramma her right now. Or Liss. Or Melly. Or all three at once? Fuck, I'm pathetic. But I am NOT going to go pester Elaine just because she's the only non-squatch female handy... and right over there...
Okay, that's better. I ate some of the little blue flowers to reduce the effects of shyøma, which helps a lot. But even more important, all our Nokhon females have sequestered themselves out in the woods, a bit farther away than the Refugee Camp, where they'll hang out and practice women's shyøma-powered magic. At least until the kha-rat Wednesday evening. Otherwise we risk that some unsuspecting NokhSo visitors come out to the Hacienda and get blasted with uncontrollable sexual desire, which could cause some embarrassing situations. I'm still horny, tho.
Afternoon, same Tuesday-- Change of plans. Maki and I had arranged that I would call her sometime this evening, but she just called to tell me that the groom, Sadahiko himself, had personally invited me to his bachelor party this same evening. Man, if there was ever an event I'd prefer to avoid, this had to be on the top of the list. Go out on the town with a flock of Japanese guys I didn't know, to honor a groom I was already programmed to dislike, and what? Get drunk with them? Amusingly, I got a flash of how to turn that bachelor party around: me, turning into that alcoholic fuck-up I used to be, getting absolutely plastered and doing all sorts of idiotic & unacceptable shit. But when I thought about how most bachelor parties usually end up, they probably wouldn't even notice my bad behavior mixed in with everybody else's. Besides, I don't want to do that to myself ever again. I tried to decline the invitation but Maki asked me to do it for her, said she wanted a report on Sadahiko's behavior and assured me that she did NOT want me to get into a fist-fight with him (she knew I'd lose). I have a hard time saying "No" to Maki, but almost did this time. But her winning argument was: "I may have to talk Ishumi out of marrying him, but I need to know what he says about her to his buddies, ammunition for my arguments." "But they'll probably be speaking Japanese," I reminded her. "They're also Americans, just like you, redskin. Anyway, you'll get the gist of what they're saying." It ended up that I accepted the invitation. So now I'm supposed to show up at the High Bar on Mercer Island at 6:00 this evening. Sigh.
Tuesday night, 2nd of June, Yoshido home, Mercer Island-- "Oh My God." Hey, I'm an American chick; I'm supposed to say that all the time. The worst thing about that is I DO catch myself saying it all the time now that I'm back in my old Mercer Island High School crowd. I thought I'd outgrown that. But no, all the old behavioral patterns have re-emerged and not just for me, I still love my old friends, hate my old rivals, and tolerate my snooty cousins. Putting a wedding together is a descent into the hive-mind of immature female entitlement, we're all unbearable bitches! But actually, my cousin Ishumi does seem to have matured a bit. I can't say the same for Sumiye, Yuka, Ayaka or Jane; they still act as silly as they did in high school. We were all together at the dress fittings and they treated the poor sales girl like a slave! I was ashamed to be in the same group with them. Ishumi surprised me by calling them on it before I did. I couldn't help looking for signs of a black eye or any other clue to incriminate Sadahiko for abusive behavior, but she looked perfect, very pretty and quite happy. When I think about my time with him I'll have to admit that it must have been pretty frustrating for him: I was really not into sex with him, or any man, I thought at the time. Pokey was an eye-opener for me... or a leg-opener. At the same time I got hit by shyøma and the major surprise that I lusted for Lissandra, changed my perspective. Oh well, at least I'm learning what kind of wedding I don't want. Good thing too, considering the guy I'll most likely marry. Even if it doesn't end up being Pokey, it'll have to be someone like him: his own man, kind, non-materialistic and fun. Oh, and hung. Speaking of my One True Love, he must be out on the town with Sadahiko's bachelor party right about now. I wonder how that's going? Maybe I shouldn't have insisted that he go, it's not necessarily fun to be with a bunch of people who are drinking when you can't. Hmm, like the same situation I'm in with my old Mercer Island crowd.
late Tuesday night, Yoshido home-- I just had the worst argument with my father. He can be so rigid and self-righteous. He's always been that way, always the tyrant, always full of hate, always angry. I don't know how my mother can love him when he never reciprocates. I am tempted to say I hate him. I have always... well, I used to try to be an obedient daughter, the Japanese way, you know. I guess I've dropped that now. Now his attitude towards Pokey is the breaking point. He's demanding that I leave him, says Pokey is worthless, because he has not been to a university, because he is too common for the "noble Japanese blood" that flows in my veins, because he's a fucking Indian... Up to now I have tried to control my anger, but don't know how much longer I can play that role.
Wednesday morning, 3rd of June, Hacienda-- Yeah, I did survive the bachelor party last night. It's actually easier when you don't get drunk. And it wasn't as bad as I'd feared, but weirder than expected. I used to think squatches were pretty alien, but after wallowing in semi-Japanese behavior all evening... Okay, a report. I took my Honda 680 and drove to the address I'd been given. I've never spent any time on Mercer Island except for blazing across the floating bridge to Seattle at full speed. But I've got a GPS function in my smart phone and found The High Bar in a neighborhood called Beaumont, where everything looked modern and clean and maybe boring. It was easy to spot the place: all these young Asian guys hanging out in front wearing white t-shirts with the same big red Japanese character on the front being a major clue. They nodded to me as I went into the bar, smiled, and seemed friendly enough. I'd been half-expecting some kind of negativity because this guy Sadahiko was such a dick, you know. I had just come into the bar when another Japanese-American guy shouted a greeting: "Hey, everybody, it's Pokey Snowchild, the drummer from Squatch & Friends!" Then he bowed, shook my hand enthusiastically and introduced himself as Sadahiko, of course. He proclaimed himself to be a big fan of our band, extremely proud to have me at his humble bachelor party. Then he dragged me around to introduce me to everyone as his new best friend. Okay, I got kinda confused; this is the guy I'm required to hate, but he LOVES me. I'm his favorite rock star, or something like that. And when he started complimenting me on the way I play drums like an American Indian instead of a white man, he backed up his opinion with specific reference to various S&F songs, so it wasn't just bullshit; he knew what he was talking about. I also noticed that he was actually shorter than me, which made him less of a physical threat. Not by much, maybe ½ inch, like Melley and Liss are taller than me but we can see eye-to-eye like equals. In fact, at 5 foot 9½ I was a little taller than most of those 20 typical Asian guys at the party. Normally I'm Mr. Tiny: dancing around to not get stepped on by humongous Bigfoot feet. So we were off to a good start. Beers were offered, I took my usual apple juice which usually resembles a beer close enough that I don't have to make a scene about being a reformed alcoholic. Language was no problem, they were all third-generation Americans after all, just like Maki said. They were all interested in my stories about the band, and Sasquatches, and especially my best friend Adam Leroy Forest, the Singing Sasquatch. Also, many of them knew Maki and that she was my girl friend, as reported in all the tabloids and scandal rags. So we had lots to talk about. My impression of Sadahiko was that he's a typical sports ex-jock, maybe a little too proud of himself, a social glad-hand, but I got no feeling that he was a bad guy. He's also pretty young, like me, in his early twenties and he was even younger when Maki knew him. I think about myself when I was 17: Pokey the Total Loser. It was a stag party, there was a cake, a stripper popped out, it was kinda fun. Karaoke came next, Sadahiko had made sure there were some S&F songs in the list, so I had to sing to "I Like To Run" and "Mean to Me". I was impressed by Sadahiko singing "Lonelyman And The Old Self-Pity Blues", he knew all the words, not even looking at the monitor. Then they began on the latest Japanese pop hits-- some of which were also pretty good, really. At midnight the party was going to move on into downtown Seattle so I thought I'd politely bow out. I really didn't want to go on a pub crawl around 1st and Pike Streets, like I'd done so often back when I was drinking and I couldn't drink any more apple juice without getting heartburn. Sadahiko said he was sad I wasn't going along. I said I'd see him at the wedding tomorrow night, then he pulled me aside for a private conversation. This was what Maki had sent me there for: guy-to-guy talk revealing what kind of husband Sadahiko was going to be for Ishumi. But he didn't want to talk about getting married, he was interested in something else: "How is Maki as a girl friend these days?" What it got around to was sex with Maki; was she still frigid and unwilling in bed? I wasn't about to tell the truth: that our sex life is way too orgasmic to tell anyone about. All of us in S&F have to keep quiet about our big tangled-up romance together. Besides, I didn't want to brag behind her back. So I said, "I dunno, she's nice. Probably pretty normal, I guess." I threw in a shrug to make it so. Sadahiko just nodded, satisfied. I think he figured I wasn't getting laid very much. I let him think that, I don't care. But this was my chance to ask the same thing of him: "What about you and Ishumi?" He began to smile, obviously proud of how much sex he was scoring, but then-- like me --he decided not to brag about it. Just nodded, "She's nice too, I feel pretty lucky." I believed him.
Thursday morning, 4th of June, Mercer Island-- The wedding was held at 2 o'clock yesterday in the Mercer Island Beach Club on the southern tip of the island, very lovely, right on Lake Washington with a view of Seattle and Mount Rainier. It was big and lavish, Ishumi's folks are pretty well-off and they went whole hog. I think we were 200 guests; there was lots of sushi, canapés, hors d'oeuvres, mini-hamburgers, buckets of champagne and so on. A delicious five-layer wedding cake, mmm. Pokey came wearing the suit we bought for him a few months back, I think it's the second time he's had it on-- first time was buying it. He looked really handsome, I might be in love. I was wearing a pink bridesmaid's dress, so I couldn't really blend in with the crowd, most guests were dressed like for a prom in the 1980s. Really, that's the style. It was a semi-traditional Japanese wedding, not religious at all, so there was no Shinto ceremony, although that's what the family fathers might have hoped for. But both Ishumi and Sadahiko are just too Americanized (and spoiled) to be interested in the old ways. For example, the bachelor party Pokey went to is more an American tradition than Japanese, but it's what Sadahiko wanted. But the wedding ceremony itself was spoken in Japanese, and the gifts were strict tradition: goshugi (cash, crisp new unfolded bills, uneven amount), and the guests were also given a gift to take home. Ishumi was required to give an emotional thank-you speech to her parents, that was traditional and it had to include lots of public weeping and wailing for the audience, so she had to ham it up a lot. It seemed completely fake to me, but I probably couldn't have done any better. The groom only had to thank his father in a manly way for being a good role model and, oh yeah, paying for half the wedding. The reception finished at 5:00 and half the guests left, then we had the more relaxed nijikai after-party. That was more fun, music, dancing, drinks, more sushi, karaoke, the works. There was a Japanese Magician doing tricks with Noh Theater masks: he was really good, backed up by a shakuhachi flute player. It never came to a showdown with Sadahiko, neither Pokey nor I were angry at him anymore. I think he's matured. Either that or I have. We left at 11:00 pm. The full moon was still high in the sky, reminding us that there was a kha-rat going on out in the Mother's Meadow exactly now. But I had promised to be staying with my folks until mid-Thursday, so we couldn't just go to Monroe. Actually, we didn't want to get caught up in a kha-rat anyway, not without our other lovers, but we needed to have sex with each other. It had been a few days, me trapped under constant family supervision, Pokey not allowed to spend the night or even visit me under full chaperonage in the Yoshido living room. It was a beautiful summer night, so we stopped at a forested park beside Lake Washington with a reflection of Seattle and that full moon, shining across the water. Pokey had thought to bring a blanket to lie on, we hid ourselves in the bushes in case an excitable cop came cruising by. After we had taken care of our most urgent needs we talked for a while, about full moons and kha-rats, so we decided to call our friends who were probably also looking up at that same moon just then. We knew Adam was out of touch, so we called Melly's phone. She and Liss and Mike were in Cuba, as they'd planned. Of course it was about 3 o'clock in the morning over there, but they were all awake anyway, also looking up at that moon and thinking about not being at a kha-rat. It was funny: we were all relieved not to be dealing with an orgy. Pokey got me home by midnight, like on a proper date. He didn't come in so missed out on another argument with my father, who'd been waiting up to make sure I wasn't having sex with an immoral and unclean "Apache Indian". I could have boasted, but didn't, figured I'd be going home to my true family tomorrow where I could relax. Although, honestly, I think there's been a breakthrough with my sisters. We might have bonded at the wedding, I think. They seem to respect me a little more now, especially 18-year old Reiko, who is almost beginning to understand why I need to rebel against our parent's strictness. Besides, both she and Kumi are S&F fans now.
in flight Seattle to Montreal--noon Friday, 5th of June-- Maki and I are in the middle of our 7-hour flight to Montreal, may as well fill in the last few blanks while I've got so much time to write. We changed our destination from Toronto to Montreal to win one more day in Monroe and not be keeping Chrome Pie's bus waiting for us at the Toronto Airport when they could begin their own 5-hour drive to Montreal. We flew out of SeaTac at 11:30 Friday night and should be in Montreal by 9:30 Saturday morning. We're all supposed to meet up at the Théâtre Saint-Denis in the Latin quarter of Montreal by 4:00pm. Lots of time. I guess Mike and the girls are doing the same from Cuba and Adam is already bee-lining it from Ontario to Quebec in our bus, so we should all arrive about the same time. I mean, what could go wrong? (Maki says "don't ask!") I didn't have to pick Maki up on Mercer Island Thursday because her sisters, Reiko and Kumi, drove her out to the Hacienda at noon. They've been getting along better after this wedding trip. We gave them a tour of the facilities and introduced her to some real live Sasquatches, they were thrilled... or maybe scared, hard to tell, they just froze up with eyes closed, like ostriches burying their heads. Like I always tell Maki, Japs are weird. It was a nice summer day again, so I offered to take them out to the New Naked Lake for a real thrill, but Maki tried to shoot that down, said they'd only freak out. But they'd heard us talking about it and were curious now. First they were shocked by the idea of seeing naked people, then they started begging us to take them there. I told them, "Okay, but you'll have to go naked too," but they shrieked, "No, we can't, we can't!" Then I heard them repeat "Just don't tell father!" a few times. Those girls were acting like frigid virgins, but obviously yearning to be totally nasty strumpets any time soon. It ended up we took them out to the lake and they loved it. There was a crowd of regulars already on the dock, who were polite and friendly--and naked, of course. No one told the sisters they had to get naked so they sat and observed, clutching their collars so that no one could rip their clothes off. Maki and I just stripped and jumped into the water, natch, making no big fuss about it. When we came back from a swim over to the rope swing both girls were already as naked as they could be. And after a few minutes they didn't even think about it anymore, just like everyone else. I'm tempted to say something about cute teen-aged Asian girls with really nice bodies, but Maki will be reading this. Nor dare I mention inviting them to a kha-rat, that could get me into some real trouble. So I just let Maki take care of them and went back to my Nokhon students, to teach some-big hairy-bodies some English. That can't get me into trouble.
And speaking of trouble, I was out at the Mead Hall organizing some videos for an English lesson. All the squatches currently staying with us were over at the Refugee Camp, anyway I was alone. At about 5:00 pm I heard Art's voice from a distance saying, "He's over there in that barn, yeah just go on in," so I knew someone was coming. It was Soichi Yoshido, Maki's dad, who came in. Surprise visit. He asked where his daughter was, in his usual unfriendly way. I could have told him last seen all three of his daughters were at the lake, stark naked, but didn't want him to go to there and find them. Good old Soichi didn't seem like the understanding type. I asked why he didn't just ring to her cell phone, he said Maki wasn't taking his calls. They'd had a pretty bad argument the night before, things were said, threats were made. I knew a lot of it was about me. "I told her not to come here," he announced, "but she disobeyed. So I've come here to take her home and keep her there." "Actually," I said, "we're flying to Montreal tomorrow." "Actually no, she's not. I forbid my daughter to go back to that decadent life style, she will stay here with her family, grounded until she rethinks her life choices." "Look, Mr. Yashido-- " "Yoshido-SAN!" he insisted, "I will not have you stealing face from me!" I dropped the social graces, "Look, asshole-SAN, you can't take Maki prisoner, she's an adult..." "But still my daughter!" "Right, but that does NOT make her your property! Maki is an adult American citizen and if you try to hold here against her will there'll be some heavy consequences: kidnapping is a felony, so is slavery." "I will call the police!" "And they'll arrest YOU, not me," I warned him. "Maki has a job to go back to, she is employed by S&F Productions, she earns a salary and you have no right to keep her from her that just because you don't like it. If you try to do so it's you who'll be committing a criminal act." "Her job is as a whore for you!" He cocked his fist back to punch me in the face. I tried to just ignore that as well as I could. Really didn't want to get into it with him, seeing how we could theoretically end up being family-- although it didn't seem so likely at the moment. "No, man, she doesn't get a salary for sexual favors, that's all volunteer work. She DOES get paid for being a member of the band, like the rest of us. She sings chorus, she helps with the daily grind, she drives the bus. And yes, she's my girl friend, live with it." "But you are gaigin and not even white..." "Yeah, and you're a racist jap, which is definitely not cool these days. That shit will get you nowhere legally." "This entire culture is racist!" he yelled. "Yeah, how could I not know that? I'm a redskin." "You are not worthy of my daughter..." "Hey, you know, if you'd said that to me last year, I would have agreed: because you'd have been right. But now, no, I AM worthy of her: I'm a success in every way I want to be; I do a job I like, rather well, it seems; I'm even rich and famous. And I've scored the perfect woman in my life. So fuck you, Soichi Yoshido... SAN!" Just then one of our squatch students, a young new guy named Dalarbart, the one who has become best friends with Roberto, came into the Mead Hall, stopping right beside us. Maki's father hadn't noticed: squatches can move very quietly. So it wasn't until Dalarbart said "Kha" to me that Yoshido turned to see that an almost seven-foot tall hairy monster had sneaked up from behind and was standing right here. Actually, Dalarbart is just a kid and not fully grown, but he's big enough to freak out Yoshido, who is about my size. Maki's father cringed backwards, crashed against a desk and froze there, like a city man discovering that a ferocious lion has just come out of the jungle and is already close enough to bite. It was probably the first time he'd ever seen a real live Bigfoot and it was looking at him from two feet away. Then Dalarbart innocently asked Yoshido why he seemed so angry with me. Squatches are easily made uncomfortable by negative emotions, but even so, he did ask very politely. But Yoshido could not understand a word of Nokhontli, of course, and just stood there trembling with his mouth open. His hands were shaking wildly, his eyes darting back and forth, obviously getting primed to go into full panic. So I answered for him, telling Dalarbart something about how cultural differences sometimes need to be worked out. "What differences, aren't you both NokhSos?" Dalarbart asked. I told him that was a complex subject, but that I'd explain it all later. He studied Yoshido's face for a moment, trying to decipher the negativity he saw. That made him frown. That frown scared Yashido even more. "Am I scaring him?" Dalarbart asked, concerned. "Naw, he'll be all...wait..." I suddenly got a wonderful idea to put a twist on this unpleasant conversation. "Yeah hey, let's play a little joke on him--" I said in secret, "make him think you're angry with him. Just don't hurt him." Dalarbart is quite playful, so he frowned even harder, pushed his face closer to Yoshido's and sniffed at him, then snarled just a little. Yoshido closed his eyes tight and without breathing asked me: "What is it doing?" "Squatches don't react well to negative emotions," I said, not lying, "gets them upset. Maybe you'd better try to smile." All his teeth were revealed in a sudden flash, although it resembled more a grimace of horror than a smile. At least he was trying. To Dalarbart I said, "Just a little closer." He nudged into physical contact. So I stepped in, heroically blocking the gigantic Bigfoot from stepping on the trembling little Japanese human, saying "No!" in English, so that Yoshido could understand. Then I rattled off some fast authoritative-sounding phrases of Nokhontli, but actually saying, "Excuse me Dalarbart, but may I give your arm a little slap? It will impress this little NokhSo very much." "Will it scare him?" "Oh, it'll scare the shit out of him." "Then do so." I gave him a friendly little punch on the shoulder and he pretended that it hurt. Actually he hammed it up so much that I thought Yoshido would see through the gag. And then Dalarbart began to laugh, although to Yoshido it must have sounded like the wheezing of a fierce beast working itself up to attack mode. Then I said, "Now walk away." Dalarbart bobbed his head and off he trotted, trying to control his giggles. "Okay, you're safe now, Yoshido san. He's gone...for now." Maki's father had been in total panic during this little interchange, not only in fear but shocked by the weirdness of being so near a savage Bigfoot for the first time. Couldn't blame him. I shrugged, said offhandedly, "One of my students." And finally added, "He wouldn't have hurt you, he's just a kid." He was quiet for a moment, reflecting. I think he realized that he'd just been kidded. "You speak their language?" he asked. Pretty obvious, I just had. "Nokhontli, yeah, and I teach them English. That's my day job. Guess that makes me a sensei." He looked at me goggle-eyed for another moment, maybe not knowing what to say to finish off our argument. Then he finally relaxed, grinned and said, "Well fuck you too, Pokey Snowchild... San." I grinned back at him, we both chuckled... carefully. I think that's a good ending for my share of this chapter, I'd like to get a little sleep. We've got a couple more hours to Montreal.
7:30 Saturday morning, 6th of June. In transit to Montreal-- Pokey looks so sweet asleep like that, makes me want to wake him up and climb in bed with him. Maybe later; the seats don't fold back far enough and it's a little too public here in an airplane. I want to tell how things ended up with my father. Tuesday we had that terrible argument about Pokey and me, which we pretended hadn't happened all through the wedding on Wednesday, but Thursday was even worse. My father COMMANDED me to remain home, even though he knew Pokey and I had airplane tickets back to the band in Canada. Then he went off to work, assuming I would obey his dictate like a dutiful daughter. But there was no way I could, I was obligated to honor my commitment to the two bands. I had no car but talked my sisters into driving me to Monroe. They didn't know that I was disobeying father, so it was just an adventure for them. They wanted to see a Bigfoot. We had a very nice day together; they met several squatches and went skinny-dipping-- first time ever for them --so we became closer than ever before. There IS something wrong at the Yoshida house, our father has been too angry with America and love has not been tolerated even in our family. Suddenly, now, that is changing. When my father came home from work and I was not there, he went into a rage and immediately drove out to Monroe to find the Hacienda and me. He'd never visited the Hacienda before, even though Art and Elaine had invited both my parents a couple of times. He can be pretty anti-social. Then he had that confrontation with Pokey out in the Mead Hall, in which they'd both said "fuck you" to each other and that seemed to be the magic trick: suddenly he realized that Pokey was okay after all. Just macho enough for his wayward daughter, I guess. This changed everything: my father had suddenly become reasonable, like one of Adam's sha-haka ssysk spells had just been cured. Hmmm-- can Pokey do that? Anyway, he was waiting in the house, talking with Art and Elaine in the living room when Reiko and Kumi and I discovered him there, acting like a perfect gentleman. Then Pokey came into the room and they spoke to each other like civilized acquaintances! I was shocked. Even more shocked when my father apologized to me for the first time in my life. I cried, I mean hard, Pokey had to hold me. Then my father cried and I had to hold him. This was years of, well, trauma being shedded. Reiko and Kumi started crying too. It got so silly that everybody started laughing. Pokey suggested that we stay an extra day in Monroe to deal with this. He'd gone online to see what could be done and got a flight about midnight Friday that would put us into Montreal Saturday morning, good enough. So we had most of Friday to have a family party. Father called my Mother (who'd been wondering where the hell we all were), announcing that they'd been invited to a social day at the Hacienda. So my father and sisters went home happy, Pokey and I had a happy night in our teepee (especially because there was still some shyøma floating around from after the full moon-- which was why I couldn't invite my sisters to spend the night like they wanted to, sorry girls). And the next day they came for the party along with my mother Hayami. It was actually a pretty big party: about fifteen squatches and ten humans. An idyllic summer evening. Home-made music, even though we were missing most of the band; keeps ya humble to realize that no one is irreplaceable. Among the party guests, Roberto came out with a baseball to play catch with his Nokhon friend Dalarbart. They're always fun to watch: one so little, one so tall, both so young and energetic. My father watched too, then waved to them. They came over to where he sat. Dalarbart acted somewhat shy, but asked, "You happy now?" in his broken English. Pokey had told me about the joke they played on him. My father smiled to him, "Yes, I'm good now. Thank you, Dalarbart." The young squatch smiled too, bobbing his head happily. Roberto asked, "Wanna play catch with us?" If he still has a Spanish accent, I couldn't hear it, he sounds 100% like an American kid now. I've never seen my father smile so unreservedly: it surprised me. "Hey, sure, let's toss a few." Then he got up and ran out onto the lawn to throw a ball with those kids for at least half an hour. He even laughed like a kid himself. I think it was the first time I'd seen my parents comfortable at a social event that was not primarily Japanese, but my father seemed to like Art and Doug, it was strange to hear him laugh so much. I liked it. My mother was fascinated by Malasna (Masnia's mother), who spoke enough English to carry on a decent conversation. The menu was mostly vegetarian, except for roast chicken for the meat-eating humans, and there was wine and beer. No, we did not take them out to the lake to get naked. Maybe next time.
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