When I was growing up in New Jersey the carousel was my favorite ride when the family went to the boardwalk at the shore, a local carnival or an old-fashioned amusement park. With its calliope of sounds, riding on a carousel horse was pure and absolute joy and happiness.
A merry-go-round of wonderful memories came back to me when I read about the closing of the Toshimaen Amusement Park in Tokyo that had a celebrated carousel called the El Dorado, a 113 year-old carousel. I had visited the park and experienced this carousel many years ago.
After nearly a half-century entertaining visitors, the El Dorado now sits in storage as Toshimaen closed in August to make way for a new Harry Potter theme park.
The El Dorado was designed in 1907 by Hugo Haase, a German mechanical engineer It could seat 154 riders on its hand-carved horses and ornate wood chariots and featured 4,200 mirrored pieces and paintings of goddesses and Cupids on the underside of the canopy.

The carousel arrived in Tokyo in 1969 from the United States, where it was imported in 1911 from Germany. It was a popular ride at the Steeplechase Amusement Park in Coney Island New York until 1964.
In serious disrepair, the carousel underwent two years of detailed mechanical and decorative refurbishment in Tokyo and entertained thousands of park visitors over the years.
Sadly, the Toshimaen park increasingly became more of a nostalgic relic as other more attractive modern amusement parks like Disneyland Tokyo, Hello Kitty World and Universal Studios Japan opened.
The Japanese greatly value the country’s many centuries-old monuments of cultural heritage. However, by historic preservation standards, 113 years is not “old” and although the El Dorado is one of just a dozen such carousels in the world, it is uncertain if the carousel will be saved from deterioration and destruction.

The following New York Times opinion article reprinted below is a fitting follow-up to my “One Year Later” series of posts. Was it just a coincidence that the outrageous and shameful U.S. Presidential “debate” happened on the anniversary of my arrival in Japan?

Just before the 2016 election Keiko and I were in Tokyo and attended a reunion party for my former FIFA World Cup team. I was asked if I thought Trump would be elected President. I said I didn’t think he would win but that if he did, Keiko and I would move to Japan. I won’t deny that Trump’s performance as President was one factor in our decision.

Grateful I bid farewell America.

Will You Leave the Country if Trump Is Re-elected?
A generation of Americans prepares to flee.

By Jennifer Finney Boylan, Contributing Opinion Writer | The New York Times, Sept. 30, 2020

The first time I heard someone say it, I thought it was a joke.

“I’m leaving this country,” my friend muttered. “If Trump is re-elected, that’s it. I’m never coming back.”

I thought it was a joke because I didn’t believe that Donald Trump could possibly be re-elected. Not after all these years of racism. Not after declaring our fallen soldiers “losers,” trying to cripple the Post Office, calling those who rallied alongside neo-Nazis “very fine people” and putting children in cages. Not after that time he had demonstrators tear-gassed so he could wave a Bible around in Lafayette Square. Not after his ineptitude helped bring us to more than 200,000 deaths from the Covid-19 pandemic. Not after the economic collapse. Not after refusing to commit to a peaceful transfer of power. Not after lie after lie after lie.

Surely the November election wouldn’t even be close. Because the moral arc of the universe bends toward justice. Doesn’t it?

I also thought it was a joke because surely my friend wouldn’t choose to start life over on a foreign shore. Surely, no matter how bad things get here, they won’t be bad forever — isn’t it our duty as Americans to try to resist the evil of these days, to fight back and do whatever we can to restore this country to its better self?

But all summer long I’ve been hearing the refrain — friends who swear they’ll move to Canada. To New Zealand. To Argentina. To almost any place but here, if Donald Trump somehow wins again.

Since Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s death, the whispers have grown louder. Enough with Mitch McConnell already. Enough with Lindsey Graham. Enough with the National Rifle Association, and the Alliance Defending Freedom and the Federalist Society. Enough with the QAnon supporters who believe — who actually believe — that Democrats eat children. Enough with Donald Trump, and with everything this country has become.

It’s too late, some of my friends say. Even if Joe Biden is elected, America is broken for good. Congratulations, Fox News. You win!

I have resisted this line of thinking, for many reasons. For one, I’m reluctant to surrender my country to Trumpists. It goes against everything I believe in to let the worst of us — can I call them “deplorables” now? — claim victory. For another, leaving the country has felt to me like an option available only to people of privilege, people who have the money to pull up stakes and start life over. And finally, could I ever love another country as much as I have loved America, on its best days?

But maybe, as the old song goes, I think I’d better think it out again. Because the love I’ve felt for America on its best days is now overshadowed by shame and anger.

I have begun to do my research. My wife and I lived in Ireland in the late 1990s, when I taught at University College Cork, and I would love to go back there. It’s become one of the most progressive countries in the world. And, there’s the Guinness and the Murphys and the Beamish. The music. The reverence with which the county treats its writers. The wild Atlantic off the Dingle Peninsula.

Irish citizenship, however, is available only if your grandparents or parents were Irish; exiles from the Great Hunger of the mid-19th century (like my Boylan forebears,) are a generation or more too distant.

My mother’s family came to this country from Germany — or to be more specific, East Prussia. But Mom was born here, and the Germans won’t give you citizenship unless your parents were German. (Or if you’re a descendant of German citizens who fled the Nazis.) So Germany looks like a long shot. And of course, East Prussia doesn’t even exist any more; after 1945 it was divvied up between Poland and the Soviet Union. Would emigrants from East Prussia even be considered German nationals by the current Bundesrepublik? Es ist nicht sicher.

Then there’s Lithuania. My paternal grandfather was born in Mazeikiai in 1890. Lithuania will consider you for citizenship if your grandparents were citizens — although this is complicated for me because when my grandpa was born, the country was still part of the Russian Empire. But it’s not impossible that this is my last-ditch route to an E.U. passport. Once I’m officially Lithuanian, I could use the E.U. passport to move to — that’s right: Ireland! You see? The system works!

But what do I know about Lithuania? The language, for what it’s worth, is said to be a lot like Russian. Except harder.

I know that to say hello you say, “Sveiki!” And to bid farewell, you say, “Iki pasimatymo.”

I also know it’s not exactly the most L.G.B.T.Q.-friendly nation in the European Union. So that gives me pause, too.

But so does another four years like this.

The journalist Audrey Edwards has an amazing new collection of essays, “American Runaway: Black and Free in Paris in the Trump Years,” about her experiences as an expat. “Running has historically been a revolutionary move and valuable skill in my community,” she writes. “Historically, we had good and noble reasons to run: To save our lives. Reclaim our spirits. Be free.”

I am not a Black American — I am, in fact, as white as a pail of goat’s milk. But as a queer person I know what it is like to yearn to reclaim one’s spirit, and be free.

Ms. Edwards moved to Paris the day before Mr. Trump’s inauguration. “Made it out just in time,” she writes.

France has its own prejudices, of course, but Ms. Edwards says that the lack of American-style racism is a breath of fresh air. She notes that African-Americans living in Paris are one of the biggest expatriate communities in Europe, the contemporary version of a movement that, over the last century, has included Josephine Baker, Richard Wright and James Baldwin.

Ms. Edwards may be unusual in having actually left the country in response to what America has become — but my guess is that the desire to run is growing.

On the morning after the Breonna Taylor decision, the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Jericho Brown asked his followers on Twitter, “What is the safest (read ‘least dangerous’) municipality in the world for a queer black person to live while being around a contingency of other queer black people?” Of the many replies, only a handful mentioned cities in America.

Mr. Brown tells me he is just doing research, for now. But can I just say that it is shocking that a generation of Americans is now “doing research”? That so many people are wondering out loud if it’s simply time to get the hell out of here?

This is what Donald Trump has brought us to — a place where we begin to wonder if our country is finished, a time where we would rather begin to start over somewhere else than continue to live this way.

During the Vietnam era of my childhood, a thing conservatives used to say was, “America, love it or leave it.” I used to take this as a challenge — to turn this taunt into an inspiration. We shouldn’t abandon our country, I thought; we should have the courage to make it better, to fight the racism and injustice in its heart.

I used to think: America, love it, or change it — so that someday you may love what at last it has become.

Now, after four years of Donald Trump, I may have a different motto.

Iki pasimatymo?

–– Note: The version of this article I read in the October 2 NY Times International Edition ended with the Lithuanian word for saying farewell: “Atsisveikinimas.”

Part 4: Let the Good Times Roll! ––

So, one year later I am comfortable in these uncertain and unsettled times, confident that the future will allow me to fulfill my expectations for a long and interesting life adventure in Japan.

As life returns to a more normal state, I expect to actively use the opportunity to enjoy the many unique experiences the country offers, including an amazing variety of food!

I have successfully dealt with the risk of becoming isolated and depressed often associated with growing old.  Research has demonstrated that looking at old photos, listening to the music that inspired you in my younger years and reminiscing about your life has many benefits.  While I am focused on the present and the future, I have spent time recalling my rich and unexpected past, celebrating my many experiences, achievements and knowledge accumulated over a lifetime.  In a strange way those wonderful memories have made me stronger and come to life again. 

Growing older in Japan is a wonderful experience.  Unlike many western cultures, the Japanese value aging and look deeper into what it means to have lived a long life. In general, being a senior citizen here is something that is given authority and admiration. The elderly are respected and cared for in a different way, not simply focused on the physical and mental deterioration that those growing old are simply a societal burden.

September 21 was Respect for the Aged Day, a designated Japanese public holiday celebrated annually to acknowledge and honor elderly citizens.  I was presented with a gift from our new neighborhood community!

The Japanese language even reflects this attitude.  With three different forms of language (casual, polite and honorific), when addressing an elder in most cases a Japanese person would use keigo, an honorific form of language.

Finally, in Japan death is neither a taboo nor something to be feared or ignored. It is seen as an opportunity to contemplate and reaffirm life. 

It is a good feeling to have family, friends and strangers who acknowledge my age and professional accomplishments.  I am encouraged to express my opinions reflecting the belief that age and experience are valuable and that it is important for me to use the lessons I have learned in life to make a difference to future generations.  It has inspired me to continue work on “my story” for my grandchildren.

I am enjoying the twilight of my life, reflecting on the years gone by, living fully in the present and looking forward to the future.   As I approach my 77th year, I am grateful for where I’m at and excited about where I’m going.

I’ll close with the words from a song by B.B. King that is on my daily walk-run playlist:

 
 Hey Everybody, Let’s have some fun.
 You only live for once,
 and when you're dead your done!
 So whether you are young or old,
 Let the good times roll. 

Kanpai!  …. Roll on! May you too enjoy a long, healthy and happy life.

Part 3: Making the Best of the Pandemic Lifestyle Disruption ––

The other significant challenge is the Covid-19 virus.  Although conditions are less severe here than most other countries, the impact has been disruptive and the isolation and social distancing stressful.

Tokyo is a vast metropolis and discovering the capital’s many neighborhoods, best done by exploring, is both an exciting and daunting exercise. Unfortunately, the forced self-isolation and other restrictions due to the pandemic have remarkably impacted our “normal” lifestyle and my plans for experiencing Tokyo and other regions of Japan have been put on hold.

The pandemic has made getting connected and making new friends, Japanese or not, extremely difficult.  I am exploring a host of online networks that appear to align with my interests.  As soon as possible I plan to just join some groups, keep showing up, and expect that eventually relationships will develop.

Notwithstanding the limitations, one of the joys of my new Tokyo life is walking around our local area.  I have also found that I can walk or take my bike instead of taking the train to just about any Tokyo destination.  It is a lot slower trip but discovering the fascinating world between train stations also has health and fitness benefits! 

Also on the positive side, having Keiko working from home is wonderful.  We have used the gift of unexpected time together to get settled in our new home and enjoy life together with Toma a constant companion.

Our faithful Toma has adapted well to Tokyo and appears to enjoy his urban life-style.  The Japanese people are dog lovers and Toma’s friendly personality insures that we make new human and canine friends through enjoyable encounters almost every day.

Living in a “bubble” may seem boring for some; I have seen it as an opportunity.  Since I no longer have any need or desire to work, I have used the current conditions to pursue interests that satisfy my intellectual curiosity.  Although learning the Japanese language appears an elusive goal, gaining a deeper understanding of Japanese history, tradition and culture is a rewarding area of study, one that has encouraged me to embark on a journey of self-reflection and an opportunity to rediscover myself in the process.

As a lifelong Stoic, I have discovered a convergence between Stoic philosophy and Zen Buddhist teachings, adapting my daily lifestyle routine to focus on the shared elements of wisdom, justice, courage, kindness and temperance.

I have returned to a long ago practice of meditation, fulfilling the Zen proverb “to be calm is the highest achievement of the self.”

Part 2: Living in a Strange Land ––

While moving to Tokyo was not as stressful as I feared, it was not a straightforward process. Some things were frustrating, but with Keiko’s unselfish support and assistance getting acclimated to Japan was surprisingly easy.

However, living in a strange land, particularly with no substantive language competency, has been an interesting challenge.  Fortunately, in Tokyo my use of limited communication skills is enhanced by an understanding of Japanese culture and observance of implicit expectations and rules of conduct.  Keiko is very supportive and her family and our Japanese friends most welcoming.

That said, beyond my circle of family and friends, I am quite aware that living here I am a member of a social minority, a “gaijin” or foreigner in a country where nearly 98% of the population is Japanese.  Having previously spent much time in Japan and also living in some other countries, I do not feel uncomfortable with my status and I try to avoid the stereotypical behavior of a typical American tourist, businessman or expatriate in terms of my behavior and appearance.

Clearly, I am treated differently, an experience the Japanese media describe as being “othered.” In no sense, does the experience of being “othered” feel like being the object of racial discrimination or being seen as someone that doesn’t belong or not worthy of the same treatment given to Japanese people.

The behavior of Japanese people is completely different from western countries. I find Japanese people polite and friendly, welcoming, patient and willing to offer assistance.  While one may occasionally have the sense of being tolerated or ignored, you quickly learn that this attitude is often really a reflection of their respect for individual privacy.  It is difficult to describe the experience with words.

With Keiko by my side, life here is no different from when we lived in the United States.  The roles are reversed and I can and do depend upon her.  However, as she did in coming with me to America in 2002, I have successfully gained sufficient capability and confidence to function independently.

Without question, the significant challenge for me is the language barrier.

Although many Japanese people do understand some English, few have sufficient proficiency to have experience with or confidence in conversations.  To mitigate this problem, I have adopted a technique to effectively use my cultural sensitivity and limited Japanese vocabulary.  By speaking English slowly and using words that are easy to understand, the approach leads to conversations, albeit short, but that result in successful and mutually satisfying communication.  

With preparations for the Tokyo Olympics and tourism a major economic sector, English is widely available in signage and train announcements.  I also use an English language directional application and new very smart simultaneous translation technology.

Consequently, when I am “on my own,” I have the confidence to enjoy everyday life like any other Tokyoite.