Pain, Death, Sadness

I'm waiting for this summer to end -- Its guerrila tactics have been getting under my skin lately.

I have my own problems, such as figuring out how to get into school, balancing my money, etc. etc., and while these challenges by themselves slow me down, I can work through them.

But I keep getting hit in the gut.

Yesterday, at 4:00 in the morning, my Japanese teacher, Richard Hendrickson, died in the ICU at St. Joseph hospital in Eureka. He was in his 40's.

The man had his share of problems. He was definitely an alcoholic. His mother, who requires medical care, kept him down. And he worried too much about this country -- He really wanted to help his country, which is great, but he got depressed over the state of liberties and such, which is unhealthy.

However, this man went through some momentous events that most people are too afraid to try. This man knew how to live. His tales of his times in Japan are gleaming examples. I remember him telling me of the friends he'd make in Japan, and how he would get drunk with them. How the yakuza wanted him to join their league. His drinking contest with a buddhist monk. The time he and some people flipped a car into a rice field and spilled lots of money all over. How he climbed, on new years eve, the mountain that the first japanese god is said to descend from (and how he stepped on lots of people because the mountain was so packed). How he rode the trains, and would deal with the coal smoke when going through tunnels. His experience with the woman with a kagoshima dialect on the train...

This man also taught me important lessons. I remember how, when I was too ****ing lazy to do my homework and study, when everyone else had given up on me for the semester, he gave me a chance. I started working hard, and when we had a test soon after beginning this work, I flunked it but ended up getting an A "for effort". That was really important to me, and I ended up finishing way ahead of the class by the end of the semester.

In addition, he taught me that what differentiates a student, and most everyone else, is all in the work put in. I remember him telling me how amazing he thought it was that students expected to learn the material through osmosis. How they thought that the book material would suck into their brain, and how mistaken they were.

Of course, he took the time to teach me japanese language. I worked hard with him on that. Would work until my mind would go dizzy, and only then would he stop. He charged me $10/hr to teach me -- very cheap for lessons! He really valued just spending time with others, and especially talking about the things he enjoyed doing.

I remember eating arrowroot cookies like mad at his house. I remember going to The Ritz, and how he taught me japanese cuisine...

We made a don buri together. well, he did most of the work. He used some fish bits mixed with soy and sugar and put it over egg on rice. It was so good! In recent days, after not talking to him (a few times this week!) I wanted to ask him for the recipe so I could make it. But, I guess I never will. It was one of those recipes not found in a cook book, at least that we knew of.

I remember watching old movies with him. He had a vast library of the classics, though some of them weren't so classic. They were good nonetheless, and, more importantly, they were all old. It was because of him that I can believe that I've watched more old movies (1950's and older) than new. I remember how I would resist watching them because I felt compelled to spend my time doing something more "productive". But, he would convince me to stay and watch. I'm really glad he did that.

I'm glad that I got to build his computer for him. He was worth doing the work for (although technically I was helping Koichiro).

I remember the last time I saw him alive. He was really drunk, being friendly to me. He had a hard time showing his affection, and he had what i believe are misunderstandings of affection, but it wasn't a big deal. He's not forceful. I wish I had seen him one more time...

me and Erin went to his house to see him before we moved away. We were looking for work and thought he might be able to give us some. He wasn't home, though.

As a sudden thought, I can't believe I'm writing about him like this. I didn't expect him to do so so soon. I thought that, if he were to die, it would be over a period of time, due to his cigarette and alcoholic problems, and not sudden. I thought I would have a chance, by seeing signs of his coming.

In fact, I wasn't thinking he was going to die anytime soon.

I know koichiro is shocked and saddened. He was practically crying when I talked to him on the phone. I wonder how Ashley, his son, is handling this.

I know that I feel somber, sad, and shocked. I don't know what direction I'm going to take, at least with studying abroad. I felt like he was behind me with whatever actions I may take in the far East. Now, I don't know what to do to succeed over there. Heh, two years ago, I told him I would be going to Japan in Fall 2006. It was my goal.

I'm losing everyone, it seems. Estrangement, hatred, death. Slowly, everybody is turning into strangers, leaving me as if this the end of an act in a play (the Humboldt/Utah act?). Even my family is losing touch with me.

I must go my own way, And learn to deal with the sorrow grace. I know this. A man can only forge the future into the present. He can't keep the past!

Now, with the death tally, let's see... first my dog, then Steve Irwin, now my Japanese Teacher. Who's next?

What a fucking Summer.