Contents in 1997


no. dating title

1

2/20

- - -

Fingerprints of the Gods

2

6/5

- - -

Big News about M. Mitchell

3

6/26

- - -

Scarf of Hermes

4

8/7

- - -

Terrible Heat

5

10/18

- - -

Strange Dream

6

11/5

- - -

Hometown


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February 20, 1997


Fingerprints of the Gods


I've read an interesting book recently. The title is "Fingerprints of the Gods." The book, which was written by Graham Hancock, caused a sensation not only in Japan but also over the world. Because the author says in the book that he cannot help believing many astonishing facts, which have some scholars be opposed to his opinion.

I'll tell you one example out of the book.

In the year of 1513, Piri Race, the Governor-general of Constantinople, made a map of the world. In the lower part of the map, the Antarctic Continent was written. Please remember the fact that Antarctica was discovered in 1818, and it was about 300 years later than the map.

When Piri Race made the map in 1513, he used many old maps, and some of them were made in the fourth century BC or before that. Furthermore surprisingly, the map showed Queen Maud Land without ice. The region of the Antarctic has been covered with ice for about 6000 years. Before that it was not covered with ice for about 9000 years.

Who measured the Antarctic when it was without ice? When did someone explore the coast without ice? Who made the map of the Antarctic? To make the map like that, intimate knowledge about geography and high technique about measurement is needed. Was there such a civilization longer time ago than human history?

I like such interesting and almost unbelievable stories. Although I've read some books like that, it is this book that I am most interested in. It refers to so-called pre-Inca, pre-Egypt, and pre-history. There is much evidence and proof about certain great existence before than olden times.

We are apt to think our civilization is more advanced than ones in the past. But we cannot reproduce nor analyze many things left in the present by the people in the past. After reading the book through, I've come to feel a little scared, finding out the fact that we, living on the present earth, are so foolish and enough selfish to rush to the crisis of destruction.

And to my surprise, the people in the pre-historic times understood the fact of our foolishness and predicted our future. To our grief, they left the prediction and signs to us, but we cannot find them. Though many things written in this book seems to be unbelievable, I want to believe them, and I think we should believe them for our future, we should do something for that.

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June 5, 1997


Big News about M. Mitchell


The other day I went to Tokyo, and then I visited the Yaesu Book Center to look for something interesting. A certain force led me to the corner, where I found a surprising book. At first it looked like a harlequin romance or something like that because of the cover picture. But the next moment my eyes fell on the familiar name under the picture. It was Margaret Mitchell.

Yes. It is big news to those who are interested in Margaret Mitchell, the author of Gone With The Wind. I believed that she had written only one story in her life, and the whole world thought so. But there was another story.

At the age of sixteen, she wrote a tale and gave it to her boyfriend, Henry Love Angel. I have seen the name in the book about her life as one of friends of her younger age. But there was an affectionate relationship between the two persons. When she gave it to him, they took the secret of this remarkable present to their graves. He kept it secretly with her letters and photos. According to her will her writings and personal papers were destroyed including manuscripts and most of the original pages from that famous story. So newly discovered things proved to be incredibly valuable.

Henry's son, Henry Angel Jr. had not known anything about his father's relationship with Margaret Mitchell until some time after his grandmother's death in 1952 when he received his father's legacy. But after that he almost forgot even the place he put it away. For more than three-quarters of a century, the story and memories of Henry and Margaret's affection slept silently first in Henry's parents' home, then in his son's.

When he heard about an Atlanta museum dedicated to Gone With The Wind and Mitchell, he remembered, and went to a library and looked for his father's name in a Margaret Mitchell biography. There he was, but barely mentioned. So Henry Jr. decided to contract the museum, because he didn't want the memories in the hands of a private collector. In that case the world would never see them and never know the truth about Margaret Mitchell's relationship with his father.

And in April 1995 the Road to Tara Museum of Atlanta, Georgia, unveiled Henry Love Angel's legacy. There was much unknown material from Margaret's early years in Henry's keepsakes. This book was published in 1996. Did you know about another story of Margaret?

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June 26, 1997


Scarf of Hermes


A few days ago I heard about an interesting and heartwarming story in the News Station of Kume Hiroshi on TV.

It's about the pictures of refugee boys in Sudan.

A few years ago a French doctor went to Sudan to look after the refugees in the crisis of starvation. The suffering people had reduced themselves to skin and bones, and walked faintly like ghosts, or lay down exhausted with worn-out rags. The doctor heard of the camp where some children lived together, and went there. Their lives were the same as the other refugees.

One day he noticed a boy lying on the ground draw a picture of an animal with his fingers. The picture was very vivid and impressive. The doctor was unexpectedly comforted and he was sure that drawing meant something in that horrible situation. When he visited the camp the next time, he took the painting kits with him.

The refugee children are all born artists. They painted freely when no one taught them how to paint of what to paint. Their pictures are very colorful, vivid, and pure. A boy said that he painted the story that his grandma told him, another said that he painted the traditional cultures they had taken over for the long time, and another said that he painted the pleasant picture. They painted the trees, animals, the natives all together as if all of them enjoy life like ancient gods in the picture. It is very impressive that the children greatly enjoy painting, and their faces are full of life.

The doctor thought that their pictures were too much marvelous, so he brought them back to France and consulted the Hermes in Paris. He could talk to the president of Hermes who had his say in deciding the design of scarf. Some of the children's pictures were adopted, and various products with colorful designs were put on the market over the world.

I was very moved with the story. I myself don't like the traditional design of Hermes very much, but the children's pictures caught my fancy. When I went to Sinjuku on Tuesday, I went to the Hermes. But the scarf of the children's design was too expensive for me to buy. (It costs 39000 yen!)

There is one more thing to say. The refugee children speak English very well. On TV the doctor spoke French, but the children in Sudan spoke English. They can tell fluently what they wanted to say. And besides, I wonder if the Hermes helps the refugee by some means, or the children receive the profit or design guarantee or not.

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August 7, 1997


Terrible Heat


This summer it is terribly hot in Kanto area. Every year it is always a little cooler in Kanto, especially in Shonan area, than in Osaka area. That is why I love to live here. It is almost unbelievable that the sun shines only upon Kanto-Nanbu area while it rains in the rest of Japan this year.

This extraordinary weather reminds me of one scene in a TV drama in my younger time. The program was called "Twilight Zone".

A young pretty artist paints in a room. It is very hot. The temperature is getting higher and higher. She keeps on painting on and on. On her face run the drops of sweat one after another. Out of the window the sun is blazing down. The whole world seems to be burning and melting. She wants to drink water, but the water from the water pipe is like boiling water, and at last it stops. Electric wires have already melted, and so air conditioners, refrigerators, and other electric facilities don't work. She comes back to the easel and begins to paint again. But oil colors can stay on the canvas no longer, and several lines of different colors streak down. She paints the landscape with the sun in the sky, so she looks at the sun from the window.

The sun is getting bigger and bigger, and brighter and brighter as if it would burn the entire world out. On TV the announcer reports that the sun is coming nearer, and the crisis of collision is near at hand. The last day of the earth and the entire creature on it. But before the collision all creature must burn out by the extreme heat of the coming-up sun. Owing to the burning heat and the growing gravitation, explosions of manmade facilities and big changes of the earth crust are taking place here and there. A hell on earth. On the screen there is only the sun keeping on getting bigger.

When the sun seems to be almost coming out of the screen, the situation changes all at once. In the room the artist lies in the sofa wrapped with thick blanket. She is freezing to death and has a dream of the contrary situation. The fact is that the earth is freezing because the sun is going far away from the earth. Her body gets numb with cold and she can no longer see the sun getting smaller in the dim sky. The drama ends here.

When I remembered the fantastic story, I forgot the terrible heat. When man is absorbed in one thing, other things seems to be out of his mind and senses.

This is the magical talent gifted to human being by nature. Thanks to this we might be able to stand hard situation, and to overcome troubles and experiences that seem to be unbearable. And while I wrote this story, I was devoted to remembering and making sentences so much so that I didn't feel the heat. It's kind of the dream of midsummer night.

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October 18, 1997


Strange Dream


This morning I had a queer dream. I was in a train, which was running through the mountainous landscape with all the seats occupied by so much cheerful people and my mother and some friends.

I don't know why, but for some reason there was some trouble with the train. It ran through at full speed without stopping at the ordinary stations, and also it ran on the wrong line.

At first I was one of the worried and only looked around at a loss, and then I began to move around in the train in order to take care of other passengers with a few friends.

In the driver's room we did something, while looking out of the window at the flying-away scene. In the corridor we fixed something to eat with what we had on hand. In the meanwhile the train stopped at an unknown station and there I queerly received a package which was to be sent to my house. In the package there were lots of food, that relieved us so much. We made many riceballs and baked rice cakes anyway.

When we worked in the conductor's room, someone wanted to take a bath, and strangely there was a bathroom in the train.

After the long runaway the train stopped at a regular station, and there the Railway Company treated us to delicious breakfast as a token of their regret. I wanted to eat the breakfast, but before that I found out that my mother was gone. I looked around for her, and she was out of the train saying goodbye. To my surprise she lived alone in the mountain and she insisted on remaining there. I managed to make her get into the train, but when it started to move she was out of it again. I cried and cried for her.

I ran to the back seat, waved my hands with all my might, and cried at the top of my voice. She only smiled, and walked away. Out of the window I could see her walk to a hillside and stand still there. I felt so sad and painful as if I lost something that I could never get in my hand forever.

When I got up, I was so much exhausted. I felt so uneasy. I wonder what the dream means.

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November 5, 1997


Hometown


I wonder which town is my hometown, because I have moved nine times and I am living in my tenth house. I was born in Kyoto. I grew up in Amagasaki in Hyogo Prefecture, Takatuki, and Ibaraki in Osaka Prefecture. Where I spent the longest period of my life is Kamakura City. And yet it is only 13 years.

They say that they long to come back to their own hometown some day, or in other towns they have some trouble to live. But I don't feel in that way. In my heart Kamakura has come to be my hometown. Here I have many wonderful friends, the green nature is comparatively conserved in this city, and yet it is located not so far away from big cities like Yokohama or Tokyo.

The natural environment is very important for me; that is, I can't stand without a view with mountains. Once our family looked for a house in Sagamihara because of my husband's transfer. We went there in order to take a look at a certain house. Standing on the street, we looked around but couldn't see the mountain skyline. The city was very flat, and it seemed to me to be very dry and empty like a desert. Then I found out I couldn't live in the flat place without green. All the places I have lived had a view with mountains.

On the other hand I need city life, too. I like art, music, shopping. I want to go to the museum, the concert, department store, good restaurants, and other cultural scenes. Traffic convenience is also important. In this sense Ofuna is in the very good location.

The most essential things are friends. I am very lucky here to have many wonderful friends like you. Every one of you has your own special personality and hobby. I am always stimulated to make efforts to share your wonderful way of thinking and living. Sometimes you give me useful advice, comfort, and lessons. Most of all, I feel very happy when we can spend our time with the common pleasure. 14 or 15 years ago I couldn't have a talk about art or space fantasy. If I suggested going to the museum, I was looked at as if I was a foreigner or a monster. I felt so sad and felt alienated (left out in the cold). Here we can tell one another what we want to, and we can hear many attractive topics from others. It's the most desirable situation.

If the place where all I want exist is my hometown, I say Kamakura is my hometown. If one more thing is to be requested, I want my old friends to be near by. Recently I have found out the fact that the older we get, the more we want old memories. When I was young, I barely looked back at the past or called back old memories. But I have come to notice that pleasant reminiscences make me fly back to my bright younger days and give me back young spirit a little bit. So it is necessary to meet old friends sometimes.

A certain poet said that the hometown is to be longed for from far away. Maybe the ideal one doesn't really exist, except only in mind, only in old memories. For me Kamakura is the one nearest to my ideal hometown so far.

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That's all in 1997.





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