autumn tactics

Just the right amount…

Of daylight, waking at 5:20 to see the sun.

Of discomfort, to ride five hours on a local train reading Catcher in the Rye while watching suburban Japan peel off.

Of friendship, a balance of Miho’s zeal and hurrying to a certain place while I wait, and listen, to take a roll of photographs at the end.

Of alcohol, to be together enough to tell Dad when we’re done but gone enough to explain passionately how I feel about life and be well-received.

Of family, to do whatever I can to help Mom with the dishes and talk to Dad’s protege’ while bitching about Yakult and our perennial disappointment.

Of life, my body aches in numerous places for a myriad of reasons, but today was so fulfilling it nearly made me cry.

Today I have to say goodbye to someone very important. Today I have to say goodbye to my mentor, Randy Pausch. Randy died today after a two year battle with pancreatic cancer. He was my inspiration and my teacher. He came into my life when I was lost and aimless, and he gave me something to live and dream for. He helped make me who I am.

He was intelligent, outgoing, and an excellent speaker. He talked about ideals and dreams, and what to live for, and I believed in him with my heart and soul. He was honest and straightforward; he demanded much from me because he knew what I was capable of.

From the moment I met him I admired him, and he drove me to excel beyond my wildest imagination. I sought his approval and recognition, and through my efforts and my passion, I achieved them.

When I was was joyous, he rejoiced with me, and when I was lost he showed me the way. He spoke to me plainly, and wisely. He made me feel good about who I was, and what I could achieve.

After I found out he had cancer, even though we were apart, he still continued to touch my life. As the world came to know Randy Pausch, I found an even deeper lesson to learn from him. In his suffering and trial, he endured with a strength that defines the beauty of the human spirit. He will always live in my heart.

I cannot repay a fraction of the compassion and wisdom he has taught me. I can only hope to spend every remaining day of my life to live as he did: with honor, and strength, and endless gratitude for all that I have been given.

I miss you Randy…

Living in Japan, I don’t get to communicate with my family often, much less see them. I often wish I could, especially my brother. We’re probably about as typical as brothers come, doing all the things brothers do: hanging out a lot, getting along well, not getting along well (pretty much always my fault), and having a lot of common interests. From James Bond to Nintendo, Jackie Chan to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, we started stuff side-by-side and finished things side-by-side. My brother is probably more like me than anyone on the planet, but also more different. I don’t know what brothers are really supposed to be like, but I know I wish we could do almost everything together. He’s probably the last person I still truly believe to have some kind of special link with, or at least romanticize to. If only we lived in the same town, there’s so much we could accomplish, so many monoliths we could build.

But we live apart, and live vicariously through each other. I make the games he always talked about, he makes the music I always did. When I was in high school I got my mother to buy me a guitar and pay for lessons, just like I had her buy me a trumpet and pay for lessons when I was in middle school. But at fifteen I wasn’t obsessive about anything other than D&D and Mountain Dew, so it ended up being the “I told you so” that depresses every parent.

But Tony is the opposite. He tinkers with guitars like I do Photoshop. He goes over the basics and imitates the masters, from dusk to dawn he works at it. He applies himself, he’s serious about it, and he dreams of having the kind of music he wants to make respected. Most of all he probably just dreams of finding some people as dedicated to it as he is, which is always hard in open society.

My brother is a lead guitarist, bassist, singer, and writer. His music is genuinely good, and even more exciting than his productions now are those he’s going to be making once he has the luck to find some mature people to respect what he’s trying to do.

The Scene East rocks. My brother rocks.