Earthquake March 11 2011- by Shelley Kaylor

Shelley with her lovely family all around her

It is with great pleasure, I introduce you to Shelley Kaylor.

She is not only my dearest friend...but she is also a woman who I highly respect. She is a wonderful example of how to live life to the fullest. When you read her guest post, which she so graciously agreed to do for me, I know you will want to convince her to get her own blog...something I've tried to do...she actually started one, Shelley's stories and stuff and only has 2 posts...maybe you can nudge her into blogging more regularly. So without further delay...here is Shelley.....


Living in Tokyo, Japan, I'm used to having a few slight tremors every year, but on March 11th, I had no idea what was coming. Let me back track to the day before. 

Shelley with her youngest children at Disneyland the day before

My husband and I had decided to take our two youngest children, Jake and Lydia to Tokyo Disneyland. Through the years I have learned that after spending a day at Disneyland, my body needs the next day to recuperate. So on March 11th, I let my husband, Steven, know that I was going to relax, rest up, clean house, stay in my PJs, and not answer the door if the doorbell should ring. Being the great man that he is, he knew that's what I'd need to do. 

I remember I took several naps off and on so the day was passing quickly. Lydia came home from school and went directly to her upstairs bedroom. Jake had just walked in the door and came into the Great Room where I was sitting.  I was asking him how school was when the earthquake began.  It didn't take long to realize this quake was stronger and longer than any I had experienced before in my twenty-two years of living in Japan. 

Our house is large and running from the Great Room, to the front door seemed too far away and dangerous. At that same time, being in my short Summer T-shirt PJs, I was thinking, "If the neighbors see me they'll think I am nuts," but when the shaking intensified to the point I thought the second floor would be coming down on us, I yelled for Jake to follow me; I opened up a window and dove out through the screen, busting it in half, and rolling on the smooth stones below. 

My hair wasn't done, I had no makeup on, and I couldn't have looked worse. I stood up, saw that Jake had jumped out after me, and saw Lydia standing in shock in our carport yelling out, "Mommy Mommy!!!" I grabbed her and Jake and went around to the back of my van where I didn't think anything could fall on us and was hoping nobody could see me. I remember thinking, "Thank God I'm not naked!" But in my shock, I completely forgot about the two houses behind my van which had an even better view of me than my other neighbors. 

Everything was a mess

As soon as the quake ended I peeked around the van to see if anybody else ran out. I could only see children so I dashed back in the house. I ran upstairs to grab some clothes, only to find out that all my clothes were pinned under fallen dressers. Every shelf was empty, every dresser fallen, with broken glass throughout the house. It was a mess!  The dressers were too heavy for me to lift. 

The T.V. fell out of the case

Eventually I was able to pull out clothes that were not inside dresser drawers but pinned underneath. From there I drove to my oldest daughter's house and my husband's work to make sure all were safe. Several strong quakes hit while I was driving. Very scary!  

Everything had fallen everywhere

Since that time, I feel as if I am finally beginning to get back to normal. The constant tremors shook more than my house. They shook my nerves. Yet, in it all, we are very thankful to be alive, to have a home still standing with only a few visible cracks that can be repaired. Many others had a more difficult hurdle to cross, but from what I've seen, many are helping out and all seem to have smiles while doing it. Even with it's earthquakes, I love living in Japan.

sayonara -- Japan 1996

Good bye...sayonara....auf wiedersehen.... selamat tinggal....Au Revoir....Adios....

No matter what language you say it in, it feels sad to say the words 'good bye.' Leaving Japan in May 1996 was not easy. I was saying goodbye to precious friends. Familiar places were no longer going to be part of my daily routine. As the 'good bye' day drew closer I would think, "This is the last time..."

I embraced "Goodbyes" all my life,but each time I had to embrace another one I found myself backing away. How can I leave the sights, the sounds, the people, the places and the experiences which make up the place I've been? How do I walk away? Slowly but surely I reach for the "Good bye" hugging it close to my chest. Maybe it will shield me from the pain of leaving. Of course, it never does.

Japan was one of the hardest good byes. Maybe it was difficult to leave because I lived there for seven years. Little by little, I pulled the farewell cloak around me. One last look at the tozai sen, one last taste of the tonkatsu down at the little shop near my house, one last chat with my wonderful friends and one last glance around the wee apartment which housed my family for seven years.

The thing about "good byes", they are always followed by "hellos". I do so love saying hello.

weddings - Japan 1995

The first wedding I went to in the United States was when I was almost 19. I thought I was at a funeral. It was so quiet. I looked around and wondered why everyone was so somber; afterall, wasn't this a joyous event?

Weddings in Singapore were quite the occasion. It didn't matter which cultural group was celebrating their wedding, there was always lots of color, music, and people. I grew up with weddings being wonderful, fun occasions.

Going to Japan, I was curious as to how their weddings were going to be. I found some to be quiet, serious occasions but also there were lively weddings. Since our church was a multicultural church we enjoyed all sorts of weddings. Filipino weddings- boy was the food good! Ghanaian weddings- can we say PARTY! Japanese weddings- a touch of class. Chinese weddings- traditional tea ceremony included.

I think my favorite memory about the weddings- no matter who was involved- was the way everyone joined together to make it the best day of the bride and groom's life! Everyone came out to decorate the hall. There were those who volunteered to cook the food. Others were ready to be an usher or to serve the food. Everyone did the part creating a wonderful day for all.

With all the countries I've traveled to, Japan included, I realize 'love' is a universal language spoken by everyone. Seeing love showcased in a wedding can be a very beautiful thing. Whether it is demonstrated in a quiet manner or in a loud manner, love shines magnificently for all to see.

Hidden Treasures- Japan 1994

Japan of 1994 was a Japan of little apartment houses, small streets, and people with big hearts. They are not a loud people, but they are a deep people. Sometimes you are somewhere and someone is so ‘friendly’ and so ‘open’ but when you really need the person they just aren’t there anymore for you. This is not so in Japan. When they connect with you, it is basically for life. There is a deep sense of loyalty.

Lifelong friendships were forged in the land of the rising sun. I believe my life was impacted by individuals who touched me in ways I had never been touched before. Of those who left a mark on my life I say Asako was definitely someone who stands out above the rest. How did I come to know this remarkable young woman?

It was via a meandering of paths we finally met. I started a class/center for children with Down’s Syndrome. In those days I was cutting through new territory and daring to come against the system there. I wanted the parents to know they didn’t have to hide their child away because each child had special gifting. As the moms and children ventured out each week they became pleasantly surprised at the things they discovered. The mom who found out her child could actually read! The mother’s who watched with tears in their eyes as their children created masterpieces.

One parent approached me to tell me of someone they wanted me to meet. She was in her late teens almost 20 and she was completely paralyzed. The only way she could communicate was via a paper marked with Hiragana. As she pointed to the various sounds, she created language….’wa’…’ta’…’shi’…’wa’ and she said “I” – well this was all very amazing, but my question was, “why do you want me to meet her?”

“Can you teach her English?”

“Wow- she wants to learn English?”

“Yes!”

I didn’t promise anything, but I went to meet Asako. Of course I didn’t have a chance once I met her, she just is someone you want to be with. She was hit by a drunk truck driver when she was 11 and her two friends who were crossing the road with her died. She survived but she went beyond survival to living as no one I ever met before.

My Japanese improved as I would sound out what she was pointing to. Her English improved and pretty soon she was pointing to a English chart of letters. It took a lot longer to spell out the words- but I became adept at ‘guessing’ what word she was about to spell and as I said the word she would nod ferociously and skip to the next word. She was so eager to communicate.

Nothing was an obstacle for her; it was simply a stepping stone to get where she was going. I remember when the group “Take 6” went to Japan, she told me “I want to see them perform and I want you to go with me!” The large auditorium where they were performing was not handicap friendly. I convinced some strong young men to help us carry her up the never ending stair case.

She was delighted from the beginning of the performance and leaned over to whisper to me, “I want to meet them.”

“Asako, I’m sure everyone wants to meet them.”

“But I really want to meet them.”

During the intermission, I walked up to the guys on the sound and explained about Asako being there and would it be too much trouble if she could meet the “Take 6” group. Unbelievably, they agreed. Everything was arranged for us to go to the stage door right before the end of the performance. Asako spent a few wonderful minutes with each of the members of the group. I don’t know who was more touched by the experience, Asako or the group members.

Japan, the land of the rising sun, brought gems into my life. They enriched me.

Girls Day & Boys Day- Japan

Year in and year out things have to be done a certain way. Why are they done this way or that way? Tradition! Sometimes there is no idea where the tradition actually started. There might be ideas as to the origin, but nothing definite.  Girls day and Boys day in Japan are festivals honoring 'girls' and 'boys'-- one held in March and the other in May.

It is no wonder my Japanese friends told me Katrina needed to be dressed up in a Kimono. A wee Kimono, making her look ever so sweet. We didn't have the full doll set which other Japanese girls had. Those are normally passed down from generation to generation.  Despite the lack of the traditional doll display, Katrina enjoyed being dressed up. 

The boys day in May is celebrated with kite like fish flying on the end of a pole. They look like they are actually swimming as the wind whips them around. A symbol of a strong and healthy boy. Apparently the day in May has been changed to children's day- but everyone realizes it is still 'boys' day.'  

An interesting thought: Girls' day is celebrated with dolls sitting in an organized row. Boys day is celebrated with the free flying fish. Are the Japanese females being prepared from young to realize ultimately they must maintain the traditonal order which has gone on for generations before them?

Scars with lessons- Japan 1993

My husband is a most amazing man. I have stories about him....oh do I have stories.....but there is one particular one which has to do with the large, ugly scar across his abdomen. The scar slices straight down the side of his belly.

The scar has been a point of interest. When Daniel takes off his shirt for a swim; someone will be drawn to the massive scar. They approach Daniel with eyes as big as saucers, "What happened to your stomach??".....he always replies, "Oh, someone slashed me with a knife and then shot me twice." (there are the scars of two small holes nearby the bigger gash)--- they gasp-- at which point I laugh and say,"Don't lie Daniel, tell them the truth!!!" He, of course, laughs loudly and then tells them that it is simply the remains of an old operation.

There are times I run my fingers lightly up and down the ridges of that ugly gash....and I remember the day he got that scar.

We had been married for less than ten years and we had three little children. We were living in Japan. Daniel came home one day complaining of a stomach ache. His remedy for any ailment was to crawl into bed and sleep it off. Normally this worked just fine. On this occasion he woke up a few hours later to severe abdominal pain. We decided he needed an expert opinion. The doctor told him it was severe indigestion. She gave him anti acid type pills and sent him home. That was around 5 pm.

As the evening progressed, the pain increased, towards midnigh I called the doctor. She told me I was being silly and there was nothing to worry about. Looking over at Daniel grimacing with pain, I thought she might be wrong but she was the doctor and I was young then.. I've learned to trust my own judgment.

What a horrible night that was! At 4 am, I woke the doctor up again and this time I didn't ask her if I could bring Daniel in, I told her I was bringing him in. By the time we reached her clinic, he was falling in and out of consciousness. Her command of English was okay but sometimes her vocabulary choices weren't the best. She said "Your husband is being lazy." (I think she meant to say- "Your husband is going unconscious.") Anyhow, she was alarmed and realized her original diagnosis of indigestion was wrong- she recommended he be taken to the emergency ward of the nearby hospital.

Long story short- he was wheeled around the hospital for hours with various doctors pushing on his stomach. It was determined the problem was his appendix. What a relief to know what the problem was. Everyone assured us this was easily taken care of. Daniel was wheeled into surgery at 4 pm (that's right- they had him at the hospital for almost 12 hours before they took him into the operating theater). I was told he would be out within 40 minutes.....2 hours later, I was still waiting.....

A nurse walked up to me with a small Japanese/English dictionary and she kept shaking her head and she pointed to something in the dictionary--- peritonitis--she also pointed to some other words. I understood things were not going as planned. The doctor needed to speak to me. The doctor explained things were not looking good for Daniel because his stomach was full of infection. They needed more time to work on him as they were siphoning out all the pus from inside his abdomen. If you think doctors are supposed to give you words of hope, I think this chap wasn't at doctor's school the day they taught the lesson on giving hope. He basically told me Daniel had a 5 percent chance of survival and I should prepare myself for the other 95 percent. They waited too long- damage had already been done.

At the time the hospital drama was going on, the members of our church were praying for their pastor. They didn't know the latest development, so I jumped into my car and rushed to where they were praying. As I sped down the narrow street, the light turned red. I sat staring at the red light then I half yelled, half cried, "God this is not how it is supposed to be!!! I have three little kids. You can't take him. You have to heal him."

"Will you trust Me?"

"Of course I trust you God- so please heal him."

"Will you trust Me?"

"I said I trust you to heal him!!"

"Will you trust Me no matter what happens."

Words dried up in my mouth. I took a deep breath. No ....this isn't the way it is supposed to be....see, it is supposed to be- I say I trust Him then He does what is best for me (or at least what I think is best for me)....trusting Him can't mean....or, can it....I mean....can it mean that I have to trust Him no matter what the outcome??? Even if my husband dies, I still have to trust Him???

"Will you trust Me?"

I heard the words as the light turned green. I was bawling my eyes out....slobbering all over the steering wheel...."I'll trust you- even if it means I lose Daniel- I will trust You."

That day I learned the definition of true faith....

The week which followed was anything but easy. Daniel had to be packed in ice cubes because his fever kept going sky high. He was oblivious to it all. Every time one of the doctors talked to me over his unconscious body....I whispered to God, "I will trust you...no matter what..." The doctors never could give me more than a 20 percent chance he would regain consciousness.

One month later, they released Daniel from the hospital. The doctors said he was a walking miracle.

So when my fingers run gently over his scar, I do remember the day I almost lost my husband....but I also remember the day God taught me the most important lesson of my life!

The Simple Things in Life- Japan 1992

This picture is old and worn. It has traveled with me for 16 years. In suitcases, on my desk, slipped in a book and now it has found its place on my knickknack shelf. I see the photo displayed prominently in a heart shaped glass frame. It greets me when I enter the house and it bids me farewell when I leave. What is the significance of this picture?

Everytime I see this photo, I'm reminded of what is important in life. It is the simple things. We tend to want to complicate life. We dress it up and parade it around. We add frills and sashes. Life, in and of itself, is simple. You are born- you live and then you die. It can't get anymore simple than that. Whether you are born rich or born poor- you live- and you die.

Why does this photo remind me of this? There are my three children in the midst of the affluence in Japan. Technology abounding all around them: The latest toys, the most sophisticated gadgets and complicated electronics. Their happiest moments were spent in a cardboard box pretending they were voyagers out at sea. The wind in their faces and imaginary waves bashing against their vessel.

The picture is faded from years of handling. Despite the worn surface, the look of glee cannot be mistaken on all three of their faces. They found the joy in the simple act of imagination. Their discovery was priceless.

School of Life-Japan 1991

Doesn't it seem like we go to school forever? When we are young, we start out in kindergarten or nursery school. We progress to elementary or primary school. As we get older we move on to junior high and then high school. Even if we don't go to University, we all keep on learning. Learning can be done either the easy way or the hard way.

Sean went to the Minami Yoichien in Urayasu. (the kindergarten) We weren't allowed to drive him there by car; all mothers were advised to either walk their children to school or take them on a bicycle. I found myself with a bicycle seat in front of me and another one behind me. Sean sat behind me while Katrina sat precariously in front of me. The bikes were parked one street away. Japanese mothers disembarked gracefully and extricated their children from the seats. It never ceased to amaze me how graceful and feminine the Japanese women were. I rode up on my bicycle with a stuttering stop. The bike invariably listed to one side as I attempted to get the children out of their seats before the bike fell. All the while, I tried to look graceful; of course, it was a lost cause.

On one of my more 'graceful' days, I was approached by several Japanese mothers. They asked if I would be willing to teach the English class at the Kominkan. I was already teaching English in Shibuya and the thought of teaching closer to home certainly held some appeal. sigh. If I only knew those women had no intention of learning English. This was their masterful scheme to have a 'girls day out.'

I tried. I used beautiful sign boards and clever English teaching techniques. I ordered no Japanese to be spoken in the classroom. My 'students' covered their mouths ever so politely with their hands and giggled with just the right tone. They ended the giggle with a gentle, "gomenasai" (sorry) I wondered what they were apologizing for. I guess they were apologizing for the false pretences of my employment. Not to worry, I soon joined in their little 'girls day out' and we found various locations other than the kominkan to 'learn english.' I thank my "Mothers' English Class" because they became my teachers. They taught me how to make tea just right. They instructed me on the correct napkins to use and the right kind of serving dish. They patiently worked with me until I understood the significance of making sure the child is sent to school with their pencils sharpened just so and their erasers intact with a cleverly packed obento. Yes, they taught me the ways of Japan.

M- I- C- K- E- Y..... Japan 1989

I can't help but remember Disneyland when I think of Urayasu-shi, Chiba-ken. During the summer evenings we sat out on the front stairs of our apartment building and watched the elaborate fire work display. Disneyland was only a ten minute drive from our apartment. I'm sure the children thought it was their own private playground.

"Can we go to Disneyland today?"

"Not today, we are busy" (roughly translated- "Not today, we have no money!")

There were times we did go and enjoy ourselves at Disneyland. Listening to the "It's a small world" song in Japanese. Walking through "Sleeping Beauty's" castle. It was fun seeing the park through the children's eyes.

Japan was more than just Disneyland. There were futons, tatami mats, sliding doors, sitting on the floor, and trains.

The trains took us wherever we wanted to go. When I took the train into Shibuya to teach English I traveled at peak traffic time. Human bodies crammed into each compartment. Amazingly everyone retained their personal space, even while they were being shoved up against each other. It was a Japanese art.

Longer trips required the bullet trains. A trip to Osaka was just as easily made as a trip across town. If we were going up to Lake Yamanaka-ko we would forfeit the train ride and just drive our car. If we decided we didn't want to travel far, we could go to any of the children's parks located near our home. Each park was given a nickname. The 'bicycle park' was a free park made to look like a mini road system. There were real traffic lights and stop signs scattered throughout the park. Bicycles of all sizes and shapes were available for anyone who wanted to 'drive' around the park. The 'ship park' was another free park which contained a large replica of a ship. The children enjoyed exploring every facet of the vessel. Hours were spent at the 'Big slide park,' where the children slid down a tall slide and ran through mazes.

Japan continued to politely house us. As always, she was on her best behavior showing us all the good she had to offer.

Madam Butterfly- Japan 1989

I was Cio-Cio- san from "Madam Butterfly" for a forensics competition in Kuala Lumpur...back when I was a senior in High School. I won an award for my interpretive reading. I should have given Kayoko the award; she was my best friend. She was a Japanese and I 'stole' her accent for my reading. When I stood up on the ISKL stage reading my excerpt, I had no idea that Japan would one day become my home...at least for 7 years.

With Sean tagging along behind me and Katrina safely tucked in my arms, I followed Daniel to Urayasu, Japan. The home of Tokyo Disneyland. The place of small apartments. The kind of small which entails you to stand up so someone can squeeze by you to get into the restroom. You can't allow yourself to have claustrophobia otherwise you will never be able to use the toilet. The walls look like they are creeping in on you. Oh, but the ofuros make up for the small toilets. The lovely hot baths in the deep tubs. The water is so hot it makes your skin blush.

Japan is the land of seasons. Every year I went with the women to the park to watch the cherry blossoms come in. It didn't matter that we went the year before and sat in the same spot with the same little obentos. This was tradition. Every year there would be the time for fireworks. This was summer. Sometimes it was enough to just have the children walking around in their cute little kimonos with sparklers. It didn't matter that we did this last year and the year before; this was tradition. Every festival had its location and its tradition. I fell comfortably into these expected seasons and events.

Japan embraced my family. She welcomed us dutifully like a waiter in a Ramen Shop, "Irashaimasu." It didn't take us long to figure out we were there on her terms; afterall, she was Japan.