Nomadic Pushpins

a travel blog by Sparkplug

This map is a first attempt to catalog in one location all of the trips I have taken in my life. It is surprising how memory fails me, and so I consult with my mother, who's memory is also failing, and my stash of passports that have accumulated over the years. When my child asks me where I've been, I hope I can refer to this site as a reference and pass along the great legacy of global citizenship to future generations.

Nagano, Japan

Although we had only been back in Japan for one year, my brother had stayed back in America to continue his education, but things were not going well. Things were also becoming difficult for my mother in Japan. My father had been more successful than anyone had imagined in reaching Japanese young people. They came in droves and slept wherever we could find space. The house was always abuzz with Japanese chatter, mouth-covered laughter, and the strumming of a guitar. That year, I rarely used my own legs as a mode of transportation as someone was always hugging me or sitting me on their shoulders. It was heaven for a toe-head girl but became unnerving for an introverted, shy mother.

That year, I had unprecidented freedom to roam the machi streets or explore the mossy mountain forests at will. The summer was particularly adventurous as the other MKs from around the country gravitated to their cabins Karuizawa for summer vacation. We played endless games of kick the can and ghost in the graveyard together. In the fall, I rode my bike to the one-room school house where I was the only student in 2nd grade. My best friend was Ann Gay. She was in the 5th grade. To this day, i have every bike trail, rock, tree route and shortcut around TEAM Center memorized. When I close my eyes, I can smell the Tamarack trees. This was home.

In 1982, we moved back to America for good. Again, my father took us the long-route. We flew to Amsterdam, where my mother lost her purse at the zoo. For $2000 dollars, we bought a blue van and some camping equipment. That summer, we drove to Germany where we visited friends at Black Forest Academy and then on to Auschwitz. I recall the gravel road and fence surround the concentration camp. The ovens made a great impression on me as I learned about the horrors that had happened during the war. Although I was only nine, it made a lasting impact on my view of war and history.

I recall climbing the narrow staircase of the tower of Pisa in Italy and frightfully peering out a window near the top. I recall the beautiful gardens of Toulouse, France and being pulled over for speeding in Andorra. Spain and Portugal were particularly hot during our visit and I remember blowing up a yellow and blue inflatable raft which we used in a stream near one of our campsites. One campsite even had a pool. I also recall with a mix of delight and disgust a can of pig feet that my parents served us during one meal. We children were convinced that we found a piece of pig hoof-nail.

In Portugal, my father had some trouble selling the van but eventually we boarded a flight and returned to America. Tim and I were enrolled at Living Word Academy, a private charismatic school that I had been taught to believe was a cult. I quickly relearned the ways of a chameleon and tried my best to fit in. That first year, I recall several fights with some boys in my class which evolved into an on-going series of boys against the girls games at recess and physical challenges of strength and speed in PE class. I still brought seaweed as my lunch time snack. In the 10th grade, I enrolled in the public school and endeavored to expand my knowledge of America beyond the conservative Christian circle that had enveloped my life. Since, then the expansion has only continued.

written by

Sparkplug on February 23, 2007 from Nagano, Japan

from the travel blog: Nomadic Pushpins

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Nagano, Japan

Each time my family went back to the USA (usually every four years), my father would take a different route. Although I was only six at the time, I can recall elements of our travels in vivid details. For instance, I recall the fright I felt at discovering the most enormous cockroach I had ever seen as we crossed Hong Kong harbor in the Star Ferry. I also can remember the flow of the muddy warm flood water swirling around my calves as we walked down the streets of Bangkok. I recall the sweetness of coca-cola sipped from a glass bottle at our guest house.This was a different Asia than I had known in our Japanese mountain town, but one I savored just the same.

Back in the USA, we moved into a upper story of a farm house in Middletown, PA. This was around the time of the Three Mile Island meltdown. I didn't know much about that. I slept in a tiny bed that my grandfather made for me, tucked into a closet-like corner. I was proud of that bed. I liked to go downstairs and play games with Grandpa Hertzler, the owner of the farm (who lived beneath us). I also traipsed through the fields dodging cow-pies and explored the barns, building hay-forts and swinging from a rope tied to the rafters high above.

That year, I went to Miss Barbara's kindergarten class at Mount Calvary School. I remember a boy in my class had his apendix taken out and showed us his scar for show and tell. We also sang Oh Come All Ye Faithful for our parents - i thought it was at my graduation but it makes more sense that it was at some sort of Christmas pagent.

The following year, my brother was having some trouble and so we moved to Millersville, PA and spent more time with a woman who seemed to be able to help his learning disability. I attended Lancaster Christian School for the first grade. This is where i learned the Pledge of Allegance to the American flag, crossing my heart and trying to stand very still. We followed it with the pledge to the Christian flag, which seemed to be equal or of greater importance. I was always nervous I would say it incorrectly because I was a foreigner. I also noticed that my teacher, Miss Swanson's knees seemed to bend backwards. I tried to stand like her but my knees simply bent forward like normal people.

At the end of that school year, I was excited to move back to Japan.

written by

Sparkplug on February 23, 2007 from Nagano, Japan

from the travel blog: Nomadic Pushpins

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Nagano, Japan

I was born in the city of Saku, Japan - a city about an hours journey from our mountain home in Karuizawa. On December 6, 1973, my brother Nathan came down with a bad case of the measles. My father and mother decided to take him to the hospital in Saku City for examination. My mother was three weeks away from her due date and took the opportunity to see a doctor in the hospital. After they examined her, they said, "Soon, soon, Dennis-san" and waved her out the door. As she walked across the street to do some shopping, her water broke. She hobbled back into the doctor's office and exclaimed that she was having a baby. As good Japanese people, they bowed and said, "Oh yes, we can see", not realizing that she was in labor. By the time they realized she was about to give birth, my father and brother were finishing up their appoinment with the pediatrician. An announcement was made over the PA system for Mr. Dennis, stating that his wife was pregnant and would see him now. This was no news to my father and so he made no effort torush to the maternity department. By the time he arrived and was prepped for the delivery room, he walked in just in time to see the nurse holding me precariously in the air while slipping on the wet floors, slick with afterbirth. My grand entrace took 20 mintues, however because I was a premie and had a heart murmur, I was kept in the hospital for several days in an incubator.
Each year on my birthday, we thank my brother Nathan for getting measles. Chances are, my parents would not have made the wintery trip to Saku in time and one can only specualte what would have happened then.
At 6 months, my parents took me to the United States for the first time. We traveled from Narita to Los Angeles and then rented a car for the rest of the journey to the east coast. The story has it that the car broke down somewhere in the Arizona dessert. Without A/C the family munched on ice chips to keep from overheating.
My missionary parents found a Baptist church in the phone book and arranged to stay at the church overnight while the car was fixed. On Sunday, my mother recalls that the small congregation took particular interest to preach the gospel directly to these strange vagabonds in an attempt to make sure they were truly saved. She found it peculiar to be on the other side of the fundementalist sword, fighting to save the heathen lost souls of the world.
After a year in Morgantown, PA, my family moved back to Karuizawa, Japan.

a travel blog by Sparkplug

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Moving to America for good

Nagano, Japan

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Nagano, Japan

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Nagano, Japan

Nagano, Japan

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