these are the unsettled questions: who is right, and who is wrong? where should i stand? whom should i support, and whom should i condemn? basically, who was in the right? who was telling the truth?
that is one of the outer layers of the onion.
beneath that, is another question. where is my soul? who am i? why does it seem as though there is nothing within me? why does it seem that i don't care very strongly for much of anything? why can i not remember seemingly significant events? why doesn't anything in particular stick? and how can i tell the story of me if i don't have a me, and i don't remember a me?
this is a middling layer.
all of these questions, while seemingly important, miss the point. at the heart of everything, beneath all the tears, is the central question. i may have asked it before, but inauthentically. this is the question: who am i? and it demands an authentic answer. it demands an answer NOW.
***
i spoke to my mother yesterday. i had this idle thought that i would try to understand her, try to understand why she was a republican and trump supporter. i simply couldn't reconcile my upbringing and ancestry with the position she was taking, that is, supporting THE worst president in the history of the world, a racist, sexist, selfish, ... well, you know, the list goes on and on.
in truth, i actually wanted to pick at the scab of my relationship with my brother and my sister, and the inarticulate question that hovered at the center of my being (or near center, anyway). i wanted to decide, or be convinced, of who was right and who was wrong.
it began innocuously enough. i learned about some of the details of my mom's past. of particular note (and these were things i commented on): how my grandpa mitakara practically built the tenrikyo aloha kyokai church in waipahu (his own house was adjacent to the church), but when the kawasakis (the minister's family) took over the church, they essentially reneged on the promise to allow my grandparents to continue to live in THEIR house, and basically kicked them off the property. well, they paid $4000 to be exact, but even back then, that was an insult. keep in mind that my grandpa, a carpenter, practically built that church. and this was the thanks they got. so my grandpa built a house in ewa beach, farther away. that was the house that i knew, the house that i would go to whenever i visited my grandparents. the house that they originally owned, the one next to the tenrikyo church, was one i NEVER saw the inside of, even though it had belonged to my grandparents... although my grandparents never seemed to have any resentment towards the church for that (my grandmother remained one of the most devoted and active members of the church), my mother probably never forgot that theft/betrayal...
another thing of note: my dad and my mom met right after my mom finished high school. she had basically been coerced by my grandma to go to japan to study the tenrikyo religion (she attended the besseki lectures, as i had). she stayed over at her aunty's house, where she met my father. "wait," i said, "you guys were RELATED!?" my mom said sort of, but not really... something about how her aunty had remarried someone in the family. my dad's father was mia in world war ii, they think somewhere in papua new guinea. so my mom and dad were not related through blood... (i also learned that my dad's grandfather, a big shot in south korea, and owner of several steel mills, was likely assassinated... a rickshaw driver basically pulled the cart onto train tracks and left him there... things were pretty dangerous for japanese in korea, especially those who were the heads of industry).
anyway, my mom and dad hit it off... and they continued to correspond with each other while my mom returned to hawaii to attend college (and my dad finished college in japan). "for four years!?" yes, my mom said. they maintained their long-distance relationship. and apparently, there was a promise that once college was up, they would see each other again... so i guess when my mom went to japan the second time, well, they conceived my older brother. and i guess the rest is history...
*****
so when it came to talking about my sister... my mom is still very raw about my sister. and with good reason. my sister had a difficult growing up period. i think ever since intermediate school, things hadn't been swell for her... i kind of feel bad about that. during elementary school, i had always taken care of her. i rode my bike with her down to elementary school, and then on to japanese school, and then home. i was basically her guardian back then. but we're 4 years apart, so by the time she got to 3rd grade, well, she was on her own. and because i'd had my own problems, i basically forgot about her.
my sister got involved in stealing things from a pretty early age. my mom actually mentioned that i may have been an influence in that regard. you see, when i was about five years old, i stole (or attempted to steal) a big box of crayons. it was the 64 crayon box, the large rectangular box with the hole that you could use to sharpen the crayens. i'm not sure why, but i loved new boxes of crayons. i loved how all of the crayons were sharp and pointy and identical. so i stuck the box under my shirt, just covering my belly button... of course, at the check out, my mom (and likely the cashier) noticed that square shape under my shirt. she had me show it...
my mom was really angry about it, and at home, she lit matches and extinguished them on the skin of my arm so that i would always remember how bad it was. it worked, because i never ever stole anything after that...
anyway, my mom implied that my sister had seen what i had done, and decided to imitate me... which, of course, made me feel not a little guilty and responsible for how my sister turned out...
my mom said there was an intervention meeting, and that i was actually there. i honestly don't remember it. well, after she talked about it, i started to recall it... but it's all pretty foggy for me. i guess it was at that meeting that the issue between my brother and sister was raised... but my mom seemed to imply that it was the social worker's fault, because she had asked certain questions about abuse, and thus prompted my sister to come up with that as some sort of excuse to hang onto... (typical republican response, by the way, this sort of victim blaming). my mom did confront my brother about it, and he reluctantly admitted to it... but again, my mom sort of defended him by saying that my dad had left all these pornographic magazines lying around, and they "influenced" my brother to do what he did. i had to laugh at that... i mean, maybe my mom is kind of prudish, but in my experience, a lot of boys at that age are interested in that sort of thing, and are exposed to it, whether it's in the house or out of it. that doesn't explain or excuse what my brother did. i mean, i was exposed to a lot of that stuff, but i didn't act out on it, or do things to my sister...
in any case, it seemed as though my mom was not allowing herself to see how significant this could have been to my sister. she seemed to see it as some sort of "excuse." the thievery and other misbehavior was "primary" to her. she even brought up some story (which i vaguely recall) of a rumor of abuse which occurred in my sister's preschool. my sister had mentioned to my mom about something that happened (she was four at the time). my mom pulled my sister out of that preschool immediately... anyway, she recounted that as evidence that my sister wasn't particularly affected by her encounter with my brother... because, as my mom said, if my sister had been immediately open about the possible abuse that had occurred when she was four, why did it take so long for her to "fess up" about the abuse that occurred with my brother? why did it take twenty or so years? my mom took that as evidence that it really wasn't at the heart of the matter, that she was just using it as some sort of excuse.
i'm not sure why, but for some reason, a lot of my anger towards my brother sort of drained away. i still think that what he did had serious ramifications. but as i listened to my mother speak, i could hear all of the hurt and resentment that she felt... and i kind of sympathized. there is hurt going all around, no one is exempt. so for me to desire someone to blame... well, in the end, everyone is to blame, and no one is to blame... well, maybe i shouldn't put it that way, because it seems to erase something. but somehow, after talking to my mom, i didn't feel quite so angry any more. maybe a part of it had to do with the fact that my brother called in the middle of my conversation, and i learned that he's struggling as a result of this covid-19 thing (a lot of doctor's offices are struggling because patients aren't coming in).
i honestly don't want anyone to get hurt (although saying all of this on this blog kind of tempts fate). but (as i said previously) i just wish everyone would be straight up with each other, and just understand one another. i just wish everyone would stop hurting each other...
well... that's all i guess i should say for today.
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