This film intrigued me, with its exploration of an Indian boy accidentally separated from a poor but loving family, old enough to know what happened, without being able to do anything about it. They glossed over his experience of growing up a brown kid in a white Australian world. As an adult, he is grateful to his adoptive parents and concerned his quest for his past might upset them. My daughter’s circumstances were quite different, but I’m sure we would support her, should she ever wish to explore her origins. I wonder if Google Earth could help with that.
This was the last year r can get into the PNE for free. This year, she and her friend wandered around on their own and met back at the appointed place, and almost the appointed time. L and I were able to see things on our own, like the Toy exhibit, giant bugs, and the bees and livestock, which we might have done otherwise, but at least we could take our time and without the whining. I was able to eat chicken waffle and chicken feet. But maybe child supervision would have saved us from buying the expensive Titanium cookware.
I am loving this story, listening to the audiobook downloaded to my phone from the library, usually while washing the dishes. Every chapter is a delightful surprise, after a spry 100 year old man steps out of the window. We also find out about his past extraordinary encounters with major historical characters. It reminds me a little of Forrest Gump. This story is perhaps more of a parody of human behaviour. I have given talks on Japanese Canadian history, using my grandmother's life to illustrate the major events, and am intrigued by how a long life intersects with historic eras.
I was just reading how even if you don’t remember the details of what you read, it can affect your models of how the world works and your ways of thinking. I had been trying to take notes on the things I am reading or watching, but without a particular project in mind. So it got kind of tedious. Maybe if I write blog posts on thoughts that come up, then it will be a way to mine my internal reservoir. This might not seem so elegant, but maybe I will become smarter with the practise of this blogging practise.
See how much mileage this gets.
Beware of teen.
I was afraid my neighbor's house would block it, but I just had enough room.
And the grey Lego was relaxing to play with.
She'd scorch your shoelaces
I'm listening to an audiobook I downloaded from the library.
On stage at the Firehall theatre, I was intrigued by this half hour panel ranging in experience and perspective, moderated by Sally Ito, a scholar, poet and translator with whom I'd done a reading. I'd seen Matt Miwa interview his elders about their experiences at Hastings Park and Tashme. Afterward, I saw Yoshie Bancroft perform in The Japanese Problem, a theatrical interpretation she created about being incarcerated in Hastings Park. Jay Rubin translated Haruki Murakami, but here he spoke of his novel about Japanese Americans during the War. I'd read Joy Kogawa's Obasan and her most recent Gently to Nagasaki.
At Oppenheimer Park, I fortified myself with a BBQ Salmon dinner and a spam musubi. Enthusiastic volunteers helped me set up my Story building workshop and brought families to participate, as a shamisen bluegrass band performed at the Diamond Stage. Nearby, people lined up to dress as giant sushi and sweaty people paraded a big ornamental omikoshi. I was privileged to read my picture book Peach Girl with poet and scholar Sally Ito on the Street Stage with announcers in English and Japanese. Heard Nisei jichans share internment stories, then Katie Malia joke about mixed expectations. So many Nikkei delights.