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The Office: The cutting room floor
Since it's a slow day with no new column and no TV from last night to comment on (thank God for "The O.C." tonight, or I'd have no new episodes to blog about for quite a while), I wanted to throw out a thought that's been rattling around in my head since my interview last week with Ricky Gervais.
We were talking about the documentary framing of "The Office" and how the camera crew no doubt brought out the worst in David Brent, and Gervais said that David was too naive and fame-hungry to realize the filmmakers would only include his bad moments.
"So, wait," I asked, stunned. "Does that mean David had good moments that didn't make final cut?"
"Absolutely," he said.
"Like, there were times when he successfully told jokes that other people found funny?"
"Absolutely."
This sent my mind spinning, to the point where I'm not sure what we talked about for the rest of the hour. (God bless digital recorders.) When I watch a real documentary or reality show, it's with the understanding that the filmmakers/producers are shaping events to tell the story they want to, but it never for a second occurred to me that what we were seeing with "The Office" was anything but an objective view of David's life. Now, I feel like I need to go back and watch the entire British series to reimagine what David -- or Gareth, or Tim, or even Keith -- must have been doing right in between the scenes that made final cut.
I haven't had a chance yet to ask Greg Daniels if he views his show the same way (UPDATE: check the comments for some Greg thoughts), but just as an exercise, what aspects of characters from either show could you imagine being dropped from the documentary episodes?
Posted by Alan Sepinwall at 9:48 AM
Adam said...
Wow. I'm dizzy. I'm now imagining a female camera operator with a secret crush on Jim, much like what's-his-name focusing on Keira Knightley in Love, Actually.
And a world in which Stanley is generally energetic and happy, and not just on Pretzel Day.
10:17 AM, December 21, 2006
See? It really makes you start questioning everything.
Where can I find that interview? It sounds really interesting.
Nowhere yet. I haven't even transcribed it. It'll probably run either the day "Extras" returns (Jan. 14) or a few days before that. Depending on how ambitious I'm feeling, I may do what I did with the Leary/Tolan interview and run a full transcript here. (Only problem is, we talked at length about "Extras" season two, and I don't like posting spoilers, even for a comedy.)
I'd imagine we'd see more moments of Ryan actually being interested in Kelly (as glimpsed in the last episode) and of Michael actually doing his job well (as in the Chili's and New York episodes).
I kind of doubt Greg Daniels feels the same way, though, because there are a lot of times where it feels like the writers completely forget about the documentary angle. Dwight's initiation of Ryan comes to mind as one example and I'm sure there are plenty more.
Technically speaking, I guess, what winds up on the cutting room floor on the American version is what you see under "deleted scenes" on the DVD. But I haven't seen anything there that makes Stanley look happier, Michael more professional, or Ryan more infatuated. There are scenes, though, that prove Kevin should be featured more prominently.
12:56 PM, December 21, 2006
There's a difference between the real cutting room floor of Greg Daniels and the virtual cutting room floor of the fictional documentarians. The deleted scenes on the DVDs aren't going to include those cuts.
2:22 PM, December 21, 2006
You might find this interesting:
http://girlintheattic.livejournal.com/66505.html
Jason said...
Well, the famous example is "This Is Spinal Tap," which the in-character members of Tap insist was a hatchet job that only showed them at their worst. It's not a bad conceit, especially for a comedy that's outrageous yet supposedly real. If it were really that bad all the time, it would be ridiculous, no?
So I e-mailed Greg Daniels after posting this entry, and he wrote back to say that, intrigued as he is by Gervais' approach/theory, "we have been playing the documentary crew as being pretty fair, even though the characters would argue with that."
And my friend Phil attempted to blow my mind by asking, "What if Jim and Pam and/or Karen is no more real than Survivor I's Greg and Colleen?"
I'm pretty sure Greg and Colleen never kissed on camera. Or told the camera crew they were "into" each other.
While conceptually it's an intriguing game, it really sounds like Gervais' ego at work. While actors love to play villains, they (especially comedic actors) also need to feel loved.
Gervais has cooked up alternate-reality where his character's best moments are now offscreen. You can't even see how great a guy he was.
15 years ago, there was a short-lived series called Arresting Behavior that was a sitcom about cops followed by a Cops type news crew- a real progenitor to The Office (though far more broad and silly). The best joke on the show was one of the camermen outrunning the cop chasing a perp. The show was sort of evenhanded, though the crew would find their way into the kids' lives too, strangely.
Interestingly, Ron Edlard and Chris Mulkey were on the show, and played the exact same characters on Bakersfield P.D., the goofy dreamer cop and the complete psycho cop. Of course, the show had the same writers. If you're gonna swipe, swipe from yourself. That way you steal from the best.
I hate to say this, Alan, but I think Gervais was having a bit of fun with you, like Grant Morrison making noise about his Marvel 2099 revamp or threatening to start a massive lawsuit against the Wachowskis for stealing The Invisibles to make The Matrix.
Dan and J, I don't think Ricky was messing me, or going on an ego trip. In the larger context of the conversation, he wasn't trying to suggest that there was a vast difference between the David we saw and the "real" David -- just that David was capable, from time to time, of not being a total screw-up. But the price of the fame he wanted so badly from being in the documentary was the filmmakers excising even the faintest trace of competence or charm.
9:53 AM, December 22, 2006
The difference between the both OFFICE's, the Brits and the US versions, is the former had a real documentary crew editing what we saw and the latter is the fake crew that follows us all around in our fake little TV programs.
I think this is the only way the american show could work as well as it has.
There's no way a real office could function under the production schedule of a lengthy american episode order.
Plus, when's the last time you saw a body mike on the american show?
It's the reality show that's in all our heads.
Nilco, the American documentary crew is absolutely real. We've seen numerous pieces off evidence: characters removing body mics, Pam and Jim interacting with the camera man, Karen commenting on how Jim is always making faces at the camera, etc.
Now, the nature of the film is still up in the air. Greg has said they might be foreign filmmakers (hence the original "The Office: An American Workplace" title) and that the final product will air in another country, or they could be like Frederick Wiseman or David Sutherland or the "Hoop Dreams" guys, where they shoot miles of footage for years before the end product is completed and aired.
At some point, Greg wants to deal with the characters getting a look at the film/show, but I imagine it would have to be at or near the end of the series, because Michael will be fired on the spot as soon as Jan or someone higher up in corporate sees even 10 minutes of this.
I don't remember the americans ever removing mics but take your word for it.
The brits removed them several times.
You bring up good points, but I contend the characters are just breaking the 4th wall with the show.
Often times they pause to reflect like Michael in the hallway before departing for "Asian Hooters" , when seconds before we saw the line of men exiting.
In the episode where Michael kisses Oscar, Dwight sits commenting on his disgust (in his aside) but tries it himself (in the meeting room). Dwight didn't have time to sitdown for the interview before the about-face.
Now, I know reality shows are all about distorting time etc, but the second example has me only fastening my mind around the aside idea.
I'll believe Greg on the american documentary airing when we get there.
BTW- the best scene last week was Angela taking pride in how well she holds a grudge.
Off the top of my head, Michael removes his radio mic in "The Injury" so he can go into the MRI room with Dwight.
There are just too many explicit references to the camera crew -- say, Jan realizing she just kissed Michael on-camera in "Valentine's Day" -- for me to dismiss the concept as a fanwank.
There was also an episode shortly after the Jan/Michael kiss where they're on the phone and she asks him if the camera crew is there. He says no, but when she realizes he's lying quickly hangs up.
I don't see as many explicit indications that the camera crew is real as I did on the BBC version, but the characters do react as if there's something other than a fourth wall there. I contend it's probably a James/Wiseman scenario. The crew is just shooting footage for some weird American workplace epic the producer has worked out in his head and has bank enough to go pretty far with it.
It is clear that the American version takes greater efforts to portray Michael as an occasionally competent boss (something I've seen Daniels admit in interivews). If you accept Gervais' conceit that the UK documentary only protrayed David's bad side, you would have to assume that either (1) the U.S. version of the documentary takes greater efforts to make Michael look occasionally competent; or (2) Michael is in fact more competent than David.
Since I've watched the entire second season of The Office in the last several weeks, and just started the third, I can say that the characters are definitely camera aware- there's even an episode in the first half of season 2 in which the cameraman crosses the line a bit:
Pam asks the cameraman to look out for someone eating a candy bar (as Angela has mysteriously just bought two instead of one). Later, the cameraman moves up to Pam, gets close, and waits. "What?" she says to the camera, and then the camera urgently swings over to Dwight, eating one of the candy bars. The camera swings back for Pam's reaction, but then continues on Dwight, so dunces in the viewing office can put it all together.
Also, Michael is, moreso in America than elseware, prime defendant material, but he has managed several times to exhibit competence (generally while getting his buyer hammered). Likewise, Dwight is the best salesman in the office, even though Jim seems like the guy that isn't too crazy to buy from.
I am a little surprised that the idea of Brent being a decent guy is that much of a surprise. I always took it to be the ultimate point of the Xmas Special. It starts out with Brent complaining about how unfairly he is treated on the "show." I initially took that as him just not being self aware, but the ending changes that. Over the final scene, Brent gives a decent speech about what it means to live a full life, and then we see the whole Office legitimately laugh at one of his impressions. I always took that to mean he was at least partially right and that the Xmas Special was a purposeful tweak on reality television. The point where they offer to fly Pam and Lee home is an obvious manipulation of events to create drama, something we didn't see in the first two seasons.
This has to be the most pointless discussion I've ever read. Gervais' original comments were taken way too literally. Clearly, his point was that the character of David Brent had no idea he would end up looking bad on the fictional documentary, which sort of explains away the fact that he didn't try to behave himself when the camera was on. Alan, what is your point that the documentary crew is "real?" There is no "real" documentary crew in the American version, and any extent to which thete is a real one in the BBC version is if Gervais and Merchant hired crew members with a documentary background.
Best of the Best '06
At the Movies: Children of Men
Snobbery
Holiday pick 'em
The O.C.: If you're here for sex, there's, like, f...
This blog entry brought to you by The Human Fund
Help me write my column, part 793
Dexter: Literacy is now welcomed
SNL: Step one: cut a hole in the box
Survivor finale: Brains vs. brawn
Battlestar Galactica: Nuke you!
Survivor: Here's mud in your hat
The Office: Let's all go to Asian Hooters!
Merry Chrismukkah to all
Who has an alumium pole?
Friday Night Lights: Hi, Mrs. Coach
HIMYM: Ted goes seaward (aka Ouchie in my mouth!)
Keys, pens and combs: The Lost Room
Rise of the little people
How CBS missed its big chance
The Wire, "Final Grades": End of term
The O.C.: Tawny Kitaen time
Dark days ahead
Scrubs: Who wants an abortion?
30 Rock: Hey, Dr. Spacemen, won't you please take ...
Survivor: The case of the missing coconuts (and hat)
'Sleeper' time again
On the Lost move to 10 o'clock...
Friday Night Lights: Can you say "Members Only"?
Studio 60: Let's get rid of demented Santa Claus!!!!!
Heroes: He's my Hiro
Once again, CBS goes the crime route
Wire week 13 talk for the On Demand'ers
The Wire, "That's Got His Own": Out in the cold
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y, Night!
Battlestar Galactica: You hit like a girl!
I'm expecting a call from 1983
The O.C.: Pajama time
Survivor: Nevermind the bollocks


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GTA 6 – Grand Theft Auto 6 Free Download
September 18, 2022 July 30, 2020 by Mahnoor Alvi
GTA 6 The Grand Theft Auto series has always been famous for using within its gaming world its brands that mimic the brands you have in real life and also if this feature is part of the identity of the series, there would be nothing wrong with having cars licensed. Among other things, it is no wonder that the mods that introduce real machines have always been among the most popular in the series. Grand Theft Auto is one of the most profitable series ever and Rockstar Games obviously has the capital necessary to invest in car brand licensing. It would be great in Grand Theft Auto VI to drive a Lamborghini or a Ferrari instead of Hell. Real car brands would also help make the gaming world more credible.
Grand Theft Auto 6 is an open-world action-adventure video game from the month of February. This game's publisher is Rockstar Games, and Rockstar North is its developer. It was launched on 8th August 2015 for the platforms including PlayStation 3, PlayStation 4, Mylife II, and Xbox One. It was filmed in Alderney, which is headquartered in New Jersey, and the "virtual Liberty States," which are New York bases.
The single-player mode centres on a customizable protagonist and mercenary who can be hired and is trying to hide out from the Evergreen City, the country's capital. The game's open-world layout allows players to freely travel throughout the whole state of Liberty as well as other districts of Alderney, which includes the suburbs and open-ended countryside of Upstate Liberty.
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In the open-ended game environment, players may indulge in activities like street racing, parachuting, bowling, gambling, and many others that are solely related to the game's plot. Additionally, the character has a smartphone that may be used to communicate with friends, start activities, and access the in-game web. The stock market can be traded via the internet by participants. The players can customise their appearance by purchasing various tattoos, hairstyles, jewellery, and costumes as well as numerous companies and homes, as well as new cars and weapons for their armoury.
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The largest map in this game's predecessors was not present in any of the earlier titles in this series. Compared to the San Andreas featured in Grand Theft Auto 5, it is a little larger. The game features two big urban centres, two significant airports, and an Air Force base. In addition to this, Liberty State's rural areas are home to numerous small towns and villages.
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Here's my question for the day: "What illusions do you have about what Jesus expects of you when you choose to follow him?" Let me repeat that: "What illusions do you have about what Jesus expects of you when you choose to follow him?" For many years I was under the illusion that if or when I would finally be answering His call, everything in and about life would suddenly be like a movie. The butterflies and birds would fly around in circles near my head. Everyone would treat me kindly and I'd see the perfect utopia that we all dream about. Rainbows everywhere, and hunger, fear, disease and poverty were too far out of sight to be brought to mind for even the slightest moment.
I had a lot to learn and learned a lot in a very short time once I stopped the kicking and screaming as I passed from one Committee on Ministry to the next in my diocesan ministry discernment process. I was second-guessing myself right up to almost having to be dragged down the aisle by the saints and angels to have Bishop Baxter lay his hands on me to be ordained. Even the next Sunday I woke up at 4:30 in the morning, so afraid I'd sleep in, that it hit me hard – this was for the rest of my life! This following Jesus thing was now for real! But did it have to involve wearing a collar? There were so many good lay ministers out there that seemed to be more in tune to what it meant to be a Christian than I ever thought I could be. In short, I was like John and James, wanting to know where those lightning bolts were to hurl around at something… just anything… to prove a point. I couldn't tell you what that point was but I was positive that since I was now following Jesus I might as well go and do some rebuking of my own!
But when we read today's gospel we find that all of that fluff that we dream about happening couldn't be further from the truth. What do mean we can't call upon the heavens to destroy some civilization that is being mean to us? It wasn't part of the Old Testament lesson for today, but we just read about Elijah, Isn't that what he did? Didn't he request that God send down fire to wipe out enemies? Surely we can take revenge on those who harm us. It's in the bible. We just read it. Oh, and still yet, didn't Elijah let Elisha, who wished to continue on and follow him go home to say good bye to his family? But now Jesus won't allow this one potential disciple leave to take care of the bones of his deceased father and then return and continue on with him. Why is there such a difference between what we hear in the old testament and what we hear Jesus doing when it involves the same situations?
Unfortunately, when we try to relate to the bible and look there for answers to what it is we should do in our daily lives, so many of us get caught up in the laws, just as the Jews did, just as the Greeks did, just as the Romans did. To understand Jesus, to understand what it takes to be a Christian requires us to unwrap our brains from the rules and regulations and sink our souls into the Spirit of Christ. I couldn't remember where I first heard the saying that "You must never break a law unless you know the reason why the law was written in the first place." Seems that you'd have to be a bit of a renegade to do that. But then again that's what Jesus was. He healed on the Sabbath, he hung out with the homeless and the sick, he crossed religious and cultural boundaries tending to those different than him, and he opposed war, revenge, and violence.
Looking at those traits, what do many who claim to be Christians do today? Cities are finding ways to make it more and more difficult to feed the hungry and shelter the homeless. Money is withheld from or refused by agencies whereby that money would enable those who need health care the most to get it. Lies are spread and traps set to lure others into fighting instead of seeking to compromise on issues and work things out in peaceful fashion. We could go on and on with these comparisons, and even try to make them political, but the fact of the matter is they are issues not about countries or cities or governments but issues that affect the dignity of human beings everywhere. I'm saying these things today; Jesus was explaining it a couple thousand years ago. Not much has changed except the time and place.
What does all of that have to do with me being a Christian, you might ask? According to Jesus, it has everything to do with it. When we talk of being a Christian so many people like to wrap themselves up in their own little cuddly blanket thinking that to say they are Christians is enough. They wear crosses and put tag lines on email addresses and maybe even have a Shield on their car. They do the duties in church that are needed for the congregation to survive like tithe, volunteer and assist with the services. They do everything they've heard they should do and have read – like the ten commandments – from the old law. Yet still we find something missing. Something that nags at us from time to time and we can't quite put our finger on it. Eventually it comes to us, some late in life, some early, some early, then late, then even late after that. Those are the ones like me who had the call at the age of 10, then put it off at the wise old age of 13, then on again around 35, off at 40, on at 45… until finally we think we "get it". And then we find out there's way more to what Jesus kind of said would happen but we glossed over it and act surprised when it does happen.
We find that following Jesus and being a Christian means what Paul said today, that now we are led not by earthly, material things (the flesh as he calls it) but we are led by the Spirit and so must live the way of Christ. We find that living in Christ means that our first response to a crisis is not about what happened or will happen to our property, but we move forward with an automatic concern and compassion for the people who may be effected by that crisis no matter if it's from a natural disaster or an act of violence, revenge, or war. And we find that living in Christ means we know the reasons why rules and laws were written and made and if the time comes to break that law in order to save lives – be it human or animal, domestic or foreign – we will act in the spirit of the law of do what is right.
Looking back at my own illusion, what I thought what being a true follower of Jesus would be like, all I can say is, "it's not the same animal, not even the same species." But once we understand the nature of Christ, not the superficial one some talk about, but the Christ that feeds us with grace and inspires us through the acts of others; once we begin to understand that, we can begin to accept that not everything about being a Christian is butterflies and rainbows. You'll often be on the wrong side of history. You'll often have an opposing view of current affairs from what your friends have. You'll often be in the middle of some illness, some crisis, some dilemma – either yours or other's – that needs professional help. You may not have it all as far as others are concerned. Having it all is the illusion that you started with. But you will have more than you will ever need or know through this Grace of Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit. Amen.


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Manchester United FC (Old Trafford)
Manchester United Football Club
Drive Me
Old Trafford Football Stadium is the home of Manchester United and is the largest football stadium in the United Kingdom with a capacity of 75,635. It is about 0.5 miles (800 m) from Old Trafford Cricket Ground. It has the nickname "The Theatre of Dreams" named by Bobby Charlton and has been the home ground for Manchester United since 1910. Between 1941 and 1949, United shared Maine Road with local rivals Manchester City, due to bomb damage caused by the Second World War. The Old Trafford Stadium underwent expansions in the 1990s and 2000s including extra tiers to the North, West and East Stands. Watch out for any future expansions, such as the addition of a second tier to the South Stand, with the possibility of increasing the capacity to around 95,000.
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Family (2 Adults + 2 Children): £80.00
Sir Matt Busby Way, Old Trafford, Manchester, M16 0RA
M16 0RA
Nearest Station(s)
Manchester Piccadilly Railway
Manchester United Football Club Stadium Tour for One Adult
Your tour guide will take you through the Old Trafford Stadium, from Alex Ferguson's stand to the dugout, to the players' tunnel, and then finally to the players' dressing rooms. You will receive a tour certificate as a memento of your visit and gain free access into the Manchester United Museum.
Manchester United Football Club Stadium Tour for One Adult + One Child
Your tour guide will take you through the Old Trafford Stadium, from Alex Ferguson's stand to the dugout, to the players' tunnel, and then finally to the players' dressing rooms. You will each receive a tour certificate as a memento of your visit and gain free access into the Manchester United Museum.
Manchester United Football Club Stadium Tour for Two Adults
Your tour guide will take you through the Old Trafford Stadium, from Alex Ferguson's stand to the dugout, to the players' tunnel, and then finally to the players' dressing rooms. You will each then receive a tour certificate as a memento of your visit and gain free access into the Manchester United Museum.
Manchester United Football Club Stadium Tour with meal in the Red Café for One Adult + One Child
Your tour guide will take you through the Old Trafford Stadium, from Alex Ferguson's stand to the dugout, to the players' tunnel, and then finally to the players' dressing rooms. You will be able to choose whether you wish to have your meal in the Red Café before or after the tour.
Manchester United Football Club Stadium Tour with Meal in the Red Café for Two People
A professional will guide you through the Old Trafford Stadium, from Alex Ferguson's stand to the dugout, the players' tunnel, and the players' dressing rooms. At the end of the tour explore Manchester United Museum and their extensive collection of memorabilia. You can choose whether to have you meal at the Red Café before or after the tour.
Family Tour of Manchester United (for 4 people)
Manchester United Legends Tour
Spend the day with a Manchester United Legend as he escorts you around Old Trafford Stadium to explore the players' tunnel, the dugout, the home team's changing room, and then make your way to the museum to explore the history of the games. Hear stories from the legend whilst enjoying your delicious 3-course buffet lunch together.


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Could Climate Change Drive Giant Pandas to Extinction?
One of the planet's most cherished endangered species could disappear by the end of the century.
By JuJu Kim @jujkimNov. 13, 2012
STR / AFP / Getty Images
Two giant pandas have a meal on Oct. 30, 2012 in their new home in the Wolong National Nature Reserve in Wolong, southwest China's Sichuan province.
China's Endangered Pandas Face Bamboo Shortage Threat AFP
Climate Change Threatens Pandas' Bamboo Food, Study Suggests LiveScience
One of the planet's most cherished endangered species could disappear by the end of the century. A study published on Nov. 11 in the journal Nature Climate Change predicts that increasing temperatures in the giant panda's natural habitats will likely cause a shortage of its main dietary staple, bamboo — leading to the extinction of the animal by 2101.
(PHOTOS: Giant Panda People — Scientists Don Costumes for Good Cause)
Using models from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the study's authors projected that in China's Qinling Mountains, which make up one-fourth of the world's panda habitat and house 270 of the bears (17% of the wild population), warming will spur a "substantial reduction" in the region's three dominant species of bamboo. The estimated 2- to 5-degree Celsius increase in temperature during summer and 3- to 8-degree Celsius rise during winter will cause between 80% and 100% of the area's panda habitat — defined in the study as a location that supports at least one of the dominant bamboo types — to disappear by the end of the 21st century.
"The difference is the degree of the changes," Jianguo Liu, a scientist from Michigan State University who co-authored the study, told LiveScience. "Even with very hopeful scenarios, where we allow bamboo to go anywhere it wants, there are still very severe consequences. Of course, if the bamboo has nowhere to go, then the panda habitat will be lost more quickly." Bamboo, a member of the grass family, constitutes 99% of the giant panda's diet. Pandas, who eat as much as 85 pounds of bamboo a day, face starvation without it.
Although the models also showed that cooler, high-elevation areas in the mountains unable to sustain bamboo will rise in temperature and become hospitable to the grass in the future, these locations are outside the existing boundaries of nature reserves — where the majority of wild pandas now live — and therefore hard to protect from human disturbance. Researchers also acknowledged that the findings could overestimate the remaining panda habitat because the bears often forage for different bamboo types depending on the season, which means one species may fail to support them year-round.
(PHOTOS: Bye-Bye, Panda Tai Shan)
But the animals face other challenges besides climate change. "The giant panda population also is threatened by other human disturbances," Mao-Ning Tuanmu, one of the study's co-authors who works at Yale University, said in a MSU press release.
Raising pandas in captivity is not an adequate solution, either. Zoologists have had difficulty getting the animals to breed, and Liu told LiveScience that mating them in breeding centers and zoos causes a decline in genetic diversity.
"That's not a long-term solution," he said.
Despite the grim predictions, researchers still believe there's hope for the longtime symbol of the World Wildlife Fund. LiveScience reported that if conservationists start to extend the borders of nature reserves now to correspond with adapted bamboo habitats, pandas could stand a chance. Tuanmu said in the MSU release that the study's team wants their findings to guide conservation efforts. Liu agreed, saying the research could help clarify the "impacts of climate change" and "help us prepare for the challenges that the panda will likely face in the future."
"It is tough, but I think there's still hope, if we take action now," Liu told LiveScience. "If we wait, then we could be too late."
MORE: National Zoo Panda Cub Died of Lung and Liver Problems


A domed mop brush made from squirrel hair or goat hair, this is used to gently brush over the metal leaf once applied to the surface to remove any excess leaf.
Standard mops have a metal ferrule and Professional mops have a plastic quill ferrule bound in copper wiring. Gilders mops can also be used for french polishing or applying water size made from gelatine capsules.


text:
Tag Archives: Christmas
Some Families, Very Large (A Christmas Story)
Posted on December 25, 2021 by penmanila
(I wrote and published this story twenty years ago for the Christmas issue of The Philippine STAR, and I'm posting it here as a Christmas offering to my readers, who may not have come across it yet.)
A FUNERAL parlor was the last place Sammy expected to be on Christmas Eve—especially since no one he knew had died. And despite his father's assurances that the man who lay in the shiny white coffin was a distant uncle of his—maybe one of those people who had come over for games and drinks and had mussed his hair—Sammy could not remember the long, rat-like face in the picture that hung over the burial announcement.
Sammy was only nine, but he had a good head for faces. The names escaped him—his father kept teasing him for being hard of hearing—but he made a game of attaching a face to something else: mud-caked shoes, yellow nails, pitted cheeks. Most of them were his father's friends, and while he had seen very few of them between this Christmas and the last one, he felt reasonably sure he could recognize any of them again, if he met them on the street. They had walked many streets that morning, and he had seen many new faces, but he had met no one even vaguely familiar.
Sammy also knew something about death and funeral wakes. When he was six, his playmate Leo had drowned in the black froth of the estero. He had watched from the bank as they fished out the boy's body with a hook-tipped pole. Leo looked very fat and very oily, and his tongue stuck out of his mouth like a peeled banana. They had stuffed him into a coffin and set up a wake on the sidewalk, where the borrowed candelabra outshone everything else at night, and passersby threw coins into a plastic can, which Leo's mother emptied into a large pocket in her apron now and then. Leo's mother sold fish at the talipapa, like Sammy's own mother, who sold vegetables when she wasn't turning scraps of fabric into hand mops.
But she was gone now, like many things they had let go of over the past few years: the motorcycle, his mother's sewing machine, the television set, even a typewriter said to have been used by his grandfather, a writer of dramas for radio. Indeed, a small transistor radio was the only thing they had left over from the old times, and Sammy would sometimes imagine hearing his grandfather on it, saying all kinds of important, grown-up things, although the man had died many years before Sammy was born.
That morning, his father had shaken him awake with an unusual gleam in his eyes. "Eat and get dressed," his father had said. "I'm taking you out."
Sammy shot up. "Where?" It had been weeks—months—since they had gone anywhere interesting, like the seawall or the basement of the mall, where there were all kinds of food—and rides, fabulous rides on pastel dragons and rampant horses and bug-eyed fish. That was the one time his father had won anything big—five thousand pesos, his father had said, although Sammy couldn't imagine what five thousand pesos could buy. It certainly was enough for a few days of roast pork, fried rice, and noodles, and he could run to the corner store and ask for anything without having to mumble that word he had learned to dread, "Lista."
That moment came and went, replaced by the old routine of making his own meals—opening a can of sardines and dunking a piece of bread into the red mush, leaving the best parts for his sleeping father—before rushing off for the twenty-minute walk to school. He had never come around to hating his father, although he had many questions to ask. His child's instincts told him that something was terribly wrong, but his father seemed to have an explanation for everything: Mama had gone back to her hometown, very far down south, to take care of her own dying father, and the government was having a hard time keeping her island from drifting farther away into the ocean; Papa lost his job as a filing clerk at the factory because someone didn't like the way Papa cheered for his favorite basketball team; the kind and quantity of food on their table depended on one's success at dilhensya, which was in turn dependent on one's abilidad.
These two words burned themselves into young Sammy's brain: they were what got you ahead in the world, or at least what saved you from curling up in a spasm of hunger. That was a man's most important job, Papa said: to put food on the table, no matter what. Sammy had some vague idea of what his father did: a classmate said that he had seen Sammy's Papa at the jeepney stop, barking out destinations and herding passengers onto waiting rides. When Sammy asked him about it, the father said that he was actually a kind of policeman's assistant, a volunteer enforcer of traffic rules and regulations. People needed to be told where to go, and how to get there fast. People paid for that kind of abilidad.
That day, they had visited three houses on opposite ends of the city. They waited all morning outside the gate of a large compound on Roberts Street in Pasay. Through a vent in the wall, Sammy could see a lawn as wide as the sea, and a fleet of cars and vans on the far side. There was an armed guard just inside the gate who spoke to them through perforations in the iron. "He's my congressman," his Papa said. "We were born in the same hometown. I voted for him in the last election. I just wanted to say Merry Christmas. I brought my son to greet him as well."
The guard snickered and said, "I'll send him your compliments. Go home, he's not here, he left very early." A metal panel dropped in front of the holes.
"I'll wait! We'll wait! He knows me, he shook my hand once at a wedding!" They stood outside and then sat on their haunches for another hour.
"Let me tell you something. This guy," his Papa whispered to Sammy, "this guy, I saw him hand out crisp new five-hundred peso bills during the campaign, like he was giving away mint candies. I know he'll be good for something." At a quarter to eleven, the heavy gate swung open, and a large Mercedes-Benz the color of midnight slid out. Father and son jumped to their feet. The Mercedes paused just out of the gate for a second as the guard exchanged words with the unseen passenger, then the car lurched forward and sped rightward, and the gate closed again before Sammy's father could say anything. "I don't think he recognized me," the man said to the boy. "The last time he saw me, I was wearing a barong."
They next went to Concepcion in Marikina to look for one of Sammy's godfathers, whom neither Sammy nor his father had seen since his baptism, but when they got to the neighborhood and the address that Sammy's Papa remembered, there was nothing there but the charred hulk of a plastics factory that hadn't even been there the last time. Sammy's father had only a hundred pesos left on him, and they used some of that for a lunch of two bowls of arroz caldo at a roadside stand. Sammy loved arroz caldo, and would have been happy to let the day end there, but his father had another address on his list. Sammy didn't mind moving around—the rides themselves were interesting, and he marveled at how his father knew so many places. Even so he was getting tired and teary-eyed, his eyes and nostrils smarting from the dust and the gas fumes. Many jeepney transfers later, they reached Damar Village in Quezon City, where his father convinced the guard to let them into the village.
They found the place they were looking for—a large white house with Roman columns and statues of fish with coins in their mouths. This, the father said, was the home of his former employer, Mr. Cua. Mr. Cua always had a soft spot for him and would not have let him go, he added, but too many people felt threatened by his smartness, and in the end Mr. Cua had no choice but to sacrifice him for the sake of industrial peace. Sammy's father announced himself to another guard—this was, Sammy thought, truly a city of guards, and he wondered if his father had ever considered becoming one himself, seeing how they held the keys to everything—and again they waited while the guard checked them out with Mr. Cua. But even before the guard could get in the door, Mr. Cua himself emerged, wearing a Santa hat and leading a group of children out to the yard, where small tables had been set. Some of the children wore masks that made Sammy's heart leap with envy—Batman, King Kong, and other cartoon and fairy tale characters he could only guess at. Sammy stared at a pigtailed Chinese-looking girl who stared back at him, and his father stepped forward to get to Mr. Cua before he could vanish. The guard still stood between the two men and Mr. Cua shrank back as if by instinct, but Sammy's father began to speak. "Mr. Cua! How are you, sir? I was a clerk in your factory, remember me? My name is Felipe Dinglasan—" At this point the guard drew his gun and the children shrieked, and Felipe Dinglasan, not knowing what else to do, seized Mr. Cua's hands and said, "I just came to say Merry Christmas, Mr. Cua! Look, I brought my son Sammy, he's only nine, but he knows—I told him—what a great and generous man you are! Say good afternoon to Mr. Cua, Sammy!" The boy stepped forward and said, gravely, "Good afternoon, Mr. Cua." The guard lowered his gun. Still shaking from what he thought might have been an assault on his life, Mr. Cua forced himself to laugh—to come up with his best Santa ho-ho-ho—and patted Sammy on the head. "Good afternoon, Sammy! Ho-ho-ho!" Sammy's father sidled up to them and said. "Wait for your present, Sammy. Santa will give you a present." Caught in the middle of another ho-ho-ho, the befuddled Mr. Cua reached for his wallet, looking desperately for small bills, but finding nothing smaller than a five hundred, he peeled out a bill and made a show of presenting it to the boy. "Merry Christmas, Sammy! Be a good boy!" All the children cheered as Sammy mumbled his thanks and as Mr. Cua glared at Felipe Dinglasan, who had the good sense to begin walking backwards, flashing his most non-threatening smile.
"What did I tell you, boy?" Felipe said as he flipped the five-hundred-peso bill between his hands, before folding it neatly and sticking it in his wallet. "All you need is a little ability—well, more than a little, more than a little!" Sammy got the feeling that he, too, had done something marvelous for the both of them, and the boy smiled in anticipation of a reward—a movie, perhaps, or, dare he say it, the one Christmas present he wanted most, the battery-powered laser sword he had seen at a Rizal Avenue shop window.
The sun had fallen now, and Sammy could imagine that incandescent saber cutting swaths in the gathering darkness.
But they walked past that store, and as large as the lump in his throat was, Sammy did not complain. "You must be getting hungry," his father said, and Sammy nodded. "There's this special noodle place I know, just around one of these corners, your mother and I used to go there. We deserve something special—special beef noodles, what do you say?"
"You're the boss!" Sammy chirped, and they veered off into a warren of streets and alleys. Half an hour passed and still they could not find the noodle shop Felipe remembered. In the dark the streets looked even more alike. Sammy trudged behind his father, wishing, praying to be carried, but he was too big for such favors now, and he soldiered on as one alley led to another. Finally they emerged into a street with one side lit up like a carnival and smelling like flowers. Boys Sammy's age ran from one end of it to another, and men and women sat in chairs on the sidewalk, smoking and chatting, scratching their ankles. Vendors sold fried bananas, jellied drinks, and duck eggs on the street. It seemed incredibly alive, this nook of the city, and Sammy soon understood why: it was a street of funeral parlors all in a row, and even Christmas saw no let-up in business here. Sammy himself felt his senses quicken, awakened by the sweetness of caramelized sugar.
Felipe Dinglasan felt revived as well, for in a trice he had spotted a group of men in a corner, huddled over what he did not need to see to know. Breathing even more hoarsely than when he had been walking, Sammy's father drew a ten-peso bill from his wallet—the remainder of his last hundred—and gave it to the boy. "Get yourself something to eat," he said. "I won't be long."
The money was enough for a large glass of gulaman and a packet of cookies. Sammy watched his father insinuate himself into the group of men—at first watching, then chatting the others up, then finally taking a place in the circle, his back to Sammy. Once or twice, Felipe cast a furtive glance over his back toward his son, knowing the boy would never stray too far away. When Sammy approached him, wanting only to ask if they were waiting for someone again, Felipe excused himself from the game and quickly found themselves a solution. "Aniceto Navarrete," read the sign on the door, but it meant nothing to the boy. "You wait here," his Papa said. "I knew this man, he was a cousin of mine in Dipolog, it's always good to meet new family at Christmas."
And this was how Sammy—finally yielding to boredom and fatigue—found himself straying into the quietest and most desolate funeral parlor of the lot, the Funeraria Dahlia. Indeed there was no one and nothing in it but the white coffin when Sammy stepped in. A weak bulb kept flickering overhead like a solitary Christmas light. Sammy took one of the back pews, and soon fell asleep.
When Sammy awoke hours later, jarred by the retort of a tricycle on the street, there was a woman seated beside him, holding a glass of milky coffee in one hand and a lighted cigarette in the other. A curl of lipstick marked the coffee glass. She had a large, hooked nose, and she looked much older than Sammy's mother. She wore a collarless black dress, and her hair towered above them both in a pile of buns. The first things that struck Sammy were the bags under her eyes, and her broad red lips.
"What's your name, boy?" the woman said.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Sammy cried. "I was just waiting for my father!"
"I wasn't telling you to go," she said, flicking her ashes on the floor. "I was just asking who you were."
"Sammy," the boy said. "Samuel Dinglasan, ma'am."
"Thank you," the woman said, bowing to the boy. "My name is Mrs. Concordia Navarrete, and that's my son Necing over there. Do you want some coffee? Are you old enough for coffee? Go get something to eat." There was a small table on one side of the room with a thermos bottle, a jar of coffee, three or four Chinese apples, and a tin of butter cookies.
"No, ma'am, thank you, ma'am."
"Well, then, suit yourself. Where's your father?"
"Out there, ma'am." Sammy could see his father, still hunched over the card game.
Mrs. Navarrete looked at the men and blew a cloud of smoke in their direction. "He'll be there all night. Unless—"
"Unless what, ma'am?"
"Nothing. My son Necing, he was going to be a lawyer. Do you know what a lawyer is?"
"No, ma'am."
"A smart person—but never mind."
"I know about smart persons, ma'am. My Papa is very smart."
"Oh, is he, now?" Sammy noticed that Mrs. Navarrete's eyebrows had no hair on them. "And just how did you find that out?"
Sammy began telling Mrs. Navarrete about his father, and the events of the day, as far as he understood them. When he got to the part about Mr. Cua and the guard with the gun, he giggled, although Mrs. Navarrete seemed very upset. "What's so funny about that?" she asked.
"Well," Sammy said, gesticulating breezily, "they were pointing a gun at Papa—and then they gave him lots of money!" It wasn't how things worked—even Sammy knew that from the movies and from their games at recess.
"Well," Mrs. Navarrete said, mulling over the story, "I suppose that's funny. And where's your mother, by the way?"
Sammy fell silent, and he looked fervently in Felipe's direction, wanting to go home. The lady took his hand and her fingers felt like a bony animal perching on his. "Some families are large, very, very large," she said. "Some families are small—very, very small."
"My Papa says—" Sammy began, then paused, seized by a sudden doubt.
"Your Papa says?"
"My Papa says he knew your son. My Papa says they were cousins in Dipolog."
"Is that soooo?" the woman said, arching her eyebrows again.
"What did you say your name was, again?"
"Samuel Dinglasan, ma'am. Samuel Occeña Dinglasan."
"Dinglasan…. Weeell….. Like I said, some families are very large. What else did your Papa say?"
"Papa says—"
"Papa says we should go home," a voice behind them said, and there Felipe Dinglasan was, looking for all the world like he had lost everything, and while Sammy could not recall Mrs. Navarrete ever coming to their house, it did seem to him that she and his father had met before by the way she was sizing him up and his fortunes, that they were all relatives like he said, and therefore family. "I'm sorry if he's been bothering you—"
"Not at all," Mrs. Navarrete cried, getting to her feet. "Mr. Dinglasan, how good to see you, how nice of you to come and to pay your respects, it's been such a long time!"
"But how—"
"Sammy here, of course, told me everything, reminded me of our connections—Dipolog, wasn't it? Yes, Necing often told me about Dipolog, and how well he was treated by family when he came to visit. Please, have a seat—"
"But we really have to—"
"Go where, do what? It's Christmas Eve—what should I call you again?"
"Ipe, ma'am—"
"Don't call me ma'am, it's always been Tita Connie. Lola Connie to you," she said to Sammy. "But of course everyone forgot. That's just how things are these days. I'm used to it. Tonight we meet, tomorrow no more, maybe never again. So take a look at your, uhm, cousin, go pay your respects—you, too, little boy, don't be scared of the dead—while I make us some coffee." Without taking another look at Felipe, she went to the small table and busied herself, lighting up another cigarette while pouring the water.
Sammy's father lifted him up so he could see into the coffin, so they could both look very closely at Aniceto Navarrete for any kind of family resemblance. The dead man's skin was very dark, and long thin whiskers stuck out stiffly from both sides of his mouth.
"You were right, Papa," Sammy whispered.
"Here, have an apple," Mrs. Navarrete told Sammy when they regathered in the back row. "Rest up a bit and tell me stories, that's all I ask, tell me stories. You, too, Ipe." Leaning closer to him, she added, "And I'll give you your fare in the morning."
"Thank you," Felipe croaked.
The woman made like she didn't hear, and took the lid off the can of butter cookies. "Dunk these into your coffee, then close your eyes, and imagine you're having ham and cake and grapes and cheese. The imagination, it's a wonderful thing." She demonstrated her technique with flair, holding the coffee and a cookie out as far as she could in front of her and shutting her eyes while joining the two.
"Yes!" Sammy shrieked, aping the woman. Even Sammy's father found his own eyes closing.
The errant bulb flickered again and finally gave out, but not one of the three or the four of them knew it, not for a long moment.
(First published in the Philippine Star, December 24, 2001)
Posted in Family & Me, Philippines, Pinoys, Society, Writing	| Tagged Christmas, family, fiction, funeral, gambling, short story	| 1 Reply
Martha, Martha (A Christmas Story)
(Twenty years ago, instead of a regular column, I wrote and sent in a Christmas story for The Philippine STAR, titled "Some Families, Very Large." This year, I thought of doing that again, this time a story set in a Covid ICU–about loves and lives lost, power and disempowerment.)
THE GENERAL LOOKED hard at the tinsel star on the Christmas tree across his desk and convinced himself that it was leaning to the left, perhaps by an inch, and he wondered if he should fix it himself or let someone else do it for him. The tree was too tall even for him to reach the star on tiptoe, because his secretary and his aide had perched the four-foot tree on top of a painted stool to create more space beneath its plastic branches for the mound of gift-wrapped presents that began to arrive in the first week of December.
Two years earlier, a mayor from Cagayan for whom the general had done a small favor had sent him a washing machine covered in gold foil, and he had raffled that off to the delighted staff, just like all the baskets of canned ham, English biscuits, and cheap California wine that gathered under the tree. Some came all the way from Manila, an eight-hour drive away, a token of the esteem in which the general was held, and of his prospects to make chief of staff. The most serious gifts never made it to the office; he was corrupt, for sure, but the general was nothing if not discreet, and he was proud of managing his affairs with a certain style. The Christmas tree and the pile of presents, to be honest, offended his sensibilities; it was too loud, almost vulgar, but it endeared him to his staff, and that was part of his charm, his ability to make people feel that they were being cared for.
He was a man who could just as easily shoot a rebel in a back alley or a safehouse as he could lift a baby out of a flood to a chopper. Back at the Academy, he excelled both in boxing and mathematics, skills he later put to good use in Mindanao when he was honing his skills in procurement and dealing with unreasonable parties. The rough edges had come off as he rose up the ranks—now he knew smoother and more efficient ways to inflict pain or punishment and get things done—but the urge to ball up his fist and beat up someone senseless never quite left him, and he knew that the best gift time had given him was restraint, which accounted for his cool demeanor.
As a young father, he had been heavy-handed with his son, now a ballet dancer in Chicago, but they had begun to learn how to talk over Facetime. His wife Martha never quite understood his sacrifices for the family, demanding that he account for the silliest things, and failing that she buried herself in bonsai clubs and Bible-study groups. At some point he discovered—she confessed—that she had had a brief affair with a college flame, an insurance executive they played mixed doubles with, and only the fact that he was then due for his first star stopped him from unloading an M-14 into his wife's lover. Despite her tearful entreaties, he never expressed forgiveness, but neither did he mention the subject again.
As the cars grew in the garage until they had to move houses, they aged together in a sullen but civil stalemate, remarking occasionally on the TV news and serving as wedding sponsors with practiced ease. At their last wedding in Tagaytay, he had caught her staring at him from across the aisle where the women were, and try as he might he could find no malice in her expression, as if they had done each other no wrong, and he remembered the soft and unlined face of the girl he married, and then she smiled and he looked away, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Now that the general was back in his regional outpost, he saw less and less of her, but that memory of Tagaytay lingered in his mind, and it bothered him that he couldn't tell if it was the wife of the present or the bride of the past that called to him.
He was still looking at the star when his mobile phone rang, from an unknown number. That in itself was not surprising; sometimes his contacts and assets used burner phones. He let it ring four times before taking the call. He rushed out into the anteroom and told his secretary, "Get me a chopper, right now."
THE DOCTOR SLUMPED against the wall and ripped off his face mask, in willful violation of the protocol that governed the use and disposal of PPEs. The prescribed order was gloves, gown, eye protection, and surgical mask—he had done it hundreds of times over the past many months—but bathed in sweat, he felt out of breath and was desperate for a smoke. To step out of the hospital even for a minute would be too complicated, so he punched a cold Tru-Orange out of the vending machine, gulped it down, inhaled what stale air he could in the corridor, replaced the mask, and staggered back into the ICU. Someone had strung up Christmas lights above the nurses' station at the far end of the hallway and they blinked indifferently.
The doctor had not been home in two days and was living out of his locker, taking showers and catnaps and calling his daughter Sheryl when he could, but he had interrupted one of her Zoom lectures once and he made a note to be more mindful of the hour. Ellen was six hours behind in Lowestoft, which oddly enough would have worked better for his night shifts, but the last time they had spoken on Facetime, just before the Delta surge, she seemed not just six hours but six months, six years, behind, growing fainter and blurrier, although he could see the crisp numbers of the wooden clock on her wall and a shadow dipping into the picture. It would have been easier on both of them if they had said curt and final goodbyes and dropped all pretenses to remaining friends for Sheryl's sake, but it was she who had made the last call, on the excuse of asking about the unexpected death of a batchmate from med school, and even as he merely repeated what he had read in their group chat, he could sense her staring more than listening, trying to recover details of his face, and in them, perhaps some sign of contrition.
The doctor noticed that a new patient had been wheeled in during his break, and he glanced at her chart, not expecting to find anything outstandingly different: female, 52, a resident of Miranila Village, brought by ambulance to the ER after collapsing on the sidewalk from acute respiratory distress, positive for Covid, further tests pending. Despite her condition, he could see from her manicure and her slim, untroubled fingers that she was a woman of leisure; a pale stripe marked where her wedding ring would have been—put aside, along with her other personal effects, by the attending nurses.
It was nearly two years after the pandemic started, and the world outside the hospital had begun to resemble a happy memory of a time taken for granted: people on the street, stores open, cars locked in traffic, even a masked Santa Claus at the entrance of the mall. But in the Covid ICU the grim parade continued—of the unvaccinated, the careless, the unsuspecting, and the merely unlucky.
Two-thirds of the beds were full, each one of them a mess of tubes, machines, and bedsheets within which a body struggled mightily to remain viable despite the violence raging through its fevered blood. The patients once had faces, but now they had receded into their oxygen masks and blankets with only tethered limbs to gesture this or that, if at all. Early on in the pandemic, the doctor had toured the wards and spoken with each patient who came in who was still conscious, reading off their charts and asking about the weather in Paoay or about grandchildren, affecting a voice of benign reassurance.
But then the cases came one after the other, like waves to an unmoving shore, and over the months they ate away at something in him, at the parts that remembered birthdays, green grass and gentle rain, the White Shoulders on Ellen's cheek, the words that came after "let nothing you dismay." There were no more stories to tell or to ask for in the Covid ICU, only predictable and unhappy endings prefaced by feeble grasps at hope. "Doctor, doctor," some relative would call him, "we found it, the Tocilizumab! In a hospital in Bohol, of all places, can you believe it? We'll have it airlifted in the morning." And he would feign relief and take a deep sigh, knowing that the next morning could be too late, because this virus seemed to have a mind of its own, leaving it to God's mercy or whimsy to decide which bodies would heal at home and which would burn in the oven.
THE DOORS DOWN the hallway suddenly flew open and the general strode in, trailed by an aide and a flustered nurse. The doctor saw the intrusion through the window of the ICU and hurried out to head it off. The general was wearing a face mask but the doctor could see from the neck down who and what he was dealing with.
"Where is she, where's my wife?"
"Who, what's her name?"
"Arguelles. Martha Protacio Arguelles," said the nurse. "The wife of—General Arguelles."
The doctor could read the namepatch on the soldier's fatigues and noted the two stars on his collar.
"I want to see her now," the general said, in that tone no subordinate had ever said no to.
"I'm sorry, general, but your wife is in the Covid ICU and no visitors are allowed in there. I'm Dr. Cañete—"
"I'm not a visitor, I'm her husband—"
"And I'm her doctor—sir. Everyone who goes in there, they're our patients, my colleagues and mine. We do our best to keep them alive—and you."
"I'll hold you responsible—"
"Of course, I understand." And what will you do if she dies, the doctor thought—shoot me dead? Because some virus found its way down her throat and made a home and a neighborhood of her chest cavity? Because she did something foolish like stepping out and taking her chances, thinking the worst was over? "I can show her to you—from the outside. Here."
The doctor walked him over to the window closest to Martha's bed. There was little to see but her prostrate body swaddled in sky-blue sheets and the ventilator that straddled her face like some exotic, long-tailed animal.
"She can't breathe on her own. You might have known she had lung problems, but Covid made it worse." He could see the general looking intently at his wife, and he wondered about the thoughts running through the man's head—a cadets' ball, courtship, furtive sex, a wedding, childbirth, midlife, secrets, rages, regrets, distant thunder, black sand. "We're still running tests for the usual complications—her heart, her liver, and so on. You seem to be a strong person, general, so I won't sugar-coat my words. Mortality rates in the Covid ICU run to as high as 65 percent, lower for those on mechanical ventilation, but it's never just about the numbers. Everyone here is on his own. Sometimes they fight hard, and sometimes they just give up."
"'Surrender' is not a word in my vocabulary," the general said in a way that made it obvious he had used the expression dozens of times before, in speeches to the troops and at the poker table with governors and congressmen. "I can get you everything—anything—you need, just let me know…. I didn't even know she was sick. She never told me anything." The last time they spoke on the phone a few days earlier, she sounded chirpy, and was hoping to fly out with her friends to Bacolod, now that airports were reopening.
"Maybe she didn't know herself. Or maybe she did—she could have felt dizzy, had difficulty breathing, felt warm—some sick people like to stay in air-conditioned rooms or face the electric fan, did you know that? But women have such a high threshold for pain, and of course you know why, so they tend to say nothing, and endure it. Until it's too late."
"Is it? I mean, is it too late?" the general asked, but he wasn't looking at the doctor. "There are—things, important things I want to tell her." The general's voice had come down to a near-whisper. He had flattened his palm against the glass.
The doctor remembered Ellen at the airport, flying off on the excuse of taking a position with the National Health Service, but really to get away from him and the overweening pride that came with being a savior of lives, so embracing of others and yet so hurtful toward those closest to him. What had he said to Ellen then? Perhaps something so banal as "Don't forget to ask for an upgrade—tell them about your medical background"? Or was it "I'll remind Sheryl of the time-zone difference"? It seemed much easier to tell a patient that he was dying and would be a jar of ashes by day's end.
The general seemed lost in thought; his frame had gone limp, and the doctor felt a twinge of pity toward the man, but only a little. From what he knew of the military, you had to have done some pretty horrible things to reach certain positions, and surely this man was no exception. At the ICU, or just outside it, he had seen tycoons, society matrons, sports heroes, and media superstars fall to pieces as soon as he told them, "I'm sorry, but you can't go in there."
But tonight he could be generous. It was Christmas, after all, and he could always say, how do you say no to a general? Perhaps the whole protocol was wrong—why keep the dying away from their loved ones? Could the possibility of infection be worse than forever leaving remorse or forgiveness unspoken?
"You know, general—" he was about to say, when a nurse approached them with a logoed shopping bag from an upscale mall that told everyone where the general's wife had been.
"General," the nurse said with a tremor in her voice, "these are Madame's things. We made sure everything was secure as soon as we realized whom it belonged to—and who she was. We put her cellphone and her jewelry and her handbag in there. Please, take them. We don't want to be responsible for these valuables."
The general was about to motion for his aide to get the bag and then he changed his mind and took it, thanking the nurse who scurried away. He looked around and found a vacant bench at the other end of the corridor. "Stay here," he told his aide and, by implication, the doctor.
So Martha had gone shopping, not unusual for the time of year. Probably already feeling some discomfort and unsteady on her feet, she had gone out by herself to buy a few presents. The general laid out her goods on the bench—the iPhone, the ostrich Hermes, some lingerie he kept in its discreet wrapping, his favorite cologne, and, at the bottom, yet another bag from a luxury watch store with a stapled receipt that made him take a deep breath when he saw the six-figure price and an additional charge "For Engraving." He knew she had the money—he had always made sure she did—but could he call her out for extravagance if it was meant for him? He smiled, and immediately he felt the pain of her possible loss even more deeply, at a moment when it seemed they had the world to gain. He would retire in three years from the military and be appointed by the President to head this or that authority, but before reporting for the new job he would take Martha on a cruise around the post-pandemic planet, from the fjords of Norway to sunny Belize. She was telling him something, and if he could only rush into that room and take her in his arms, he would. He had so many things to tell her as well.
He could not contain his exhilaration and, abandoning all caution, he tore the receipt away and opened the bag. Inside was the watch box—an expensive but unfamiliar brand. He lifted the top and saw a gold watch with a brown crocodile strap, blued hands, and roman numerals on an ivory face. He had expected something in steel or titanium with a rotating bezel, something he could dive into the Great Barrier Reef with, or lead an assault into the jungles of Basilan with. But perhaps she was civilizing him further, completing his transformation into a proper gentleman. Perhaps she had asked the engraver to say this in script: "To my dearest Ronnie, For peace and joy in our golden years. Your loving Martha." He could feel hot tears welling in his eyes. Oh, Martha, Martha, let us be happy, Lord give us time to be happy.
He turned the watch over and his face turned ashen beneath his mask. His chest tightened and he could not breathe.
The doctor rushed to his side. "General! General, are you all right? Look, if you want to see her—but only for a minute—"
The general looked up at him, and all the doctor could see was his eyes, but he recognized what he knew was the face of utter defeat.
Posted in Art & Culture, Pinoys, Politics, Writing	| Tagged Christmas, Covid, doctor, fiction, gift, ICU, Martha, wife	| 1 Reply
Hindsight No. 1: A Time for Telling
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Family & Me
Pinoys


text:
La llei sobre la bandera i l'himne nacional  (abreujat com 国旗国歌法) és una llei que establí formalment la bandera i l'himne nacional del Japó. Abans de ratificar-se el 13 d'agost de 1999, no hi havia cap bandera o himne oficial del Japó. La bandera , coneguda comunament com , havia representat Japó de manera no oficial des del 1870; Kimi ga yo s'havia emprat com a himne de facto del Japó des de 1880.

Després de la derrota del Japó en la Segona Guerra mundial, hi hagué suggeriments per legislar el hinomaru i Kimi ga jo com a símbols oficials del Japó. Però no guanyà la majoria en la Dieta al 1974 a causa de la connexió dels símbols amb la història militarista del Japó. Se suggerí que se'n feren oficials després que un director d'escola se suïcidà a Hiroshima per una disputa sobre l'ús de la bandera i l'himne en una cerimònia escolar.

Després d'una votació en ambdues cambres de la Dieta, la llei s'aprovà el 9 d'agost de 1999. Promulgada el 13 d'agost de 1999, es considerà una de les lleis més polèmiques aprovades per la Dieta. El debat sobre la llei també palesà una divisió en la direcció de l'opositor Partit Democràtic del Japó (PDJ) i la unitat del Partit Liberal Democràtic (PLD) i socis de la coalició.

L'aprovació de la llei es rebé amb reaccions oposades. Tot i que alguns japonesos aclamaren l'aprovació, altres pensaven que era un canvi cap a la restauració dels sentiments nacionalistes i la cultura. Als estats ocupats pel Japó en la Segona Guerra mundial, alguns creien que l'aprovació de la llei, amb els debats sobre les lleis relacionades amb afers militars i el santuari Yasukuni, marcaren un canvi al Japó cap a la dreta política. Els reglaments i les ordres emeses pel govern arran d'aquesta llei, especialment per la Junta d'Educació de Tòquio, també foren impugnats als tribunals per alguns japonesos, a causa dels conflictes amb la Constitució.

Text de la llei
La llei sobre la bandera i l'himne nacional fixà el Nisshōki com a bandera nacional i el Kimi ga jo com l'himne nacional. Els detalls sobre cada símbol es presentaren en els apèndixs, incloent les especificacions per a la construcció de la bandera i la partitura de Kimi ga jo. La llei feu disposicions sobre l'ús o el tractament d'un o un altre símbol, la qual cosa dugué diferents agències i ministeris nacionals i prefectures a crear les seues pròpies reglamentacions. Si les regles sobre l'ús de la bandera i l'himne s'hagueren inclòs en la llei, no hauria rebut prou suport en la Dieta per ser aprovada.

Disposicions relatives a la bandera

Els detalls del dibuix i la construcció de la bandera se'n proporcionen en el primer apèndix. La relació global de la bandera és de dues unitats de longitud per tres unitats d'ample (2:3). El disc roig es troba al centre exacte de la bandera i el seu diàmetre és de tres cinquenes parts de la longitud de la bandera. La llei de 1999, però, permetia l'ús continu i la fabricació de banderes amb les proporcions establertes en la primera Proclamació del Ministre núm. 57 de 1870, que estipulava que la bandera tenia una relació de set a deu (7.10), amb el disc roig descentrat per una centena de la longitud de la bandera cap al costat de la beina. El fons de la bandera és de color blanc i el disc roig, però els tons exactes no se'n detallaren en la llei de 1999. Algunes explicacions afegides per part del govern afirmaven que el color roig té un to profund. Les especificacions publicades pel Ministeri de Defensa al 2008 defineixen els tons de roig per a la bandera. Durant les deliberacions en la Dieta sobre aquest projecte de llei, se suggerí que usara un color roig brillant ( (, 赤色?)).

Disposicions relatives a l'himne
La lletra i la notació musical de l'himne s'aporten en el segon apèndix. El text de la llei no atribueix a cap artista la lletra o la música, però la notació atribueix a Hiromori Hayashi l'arranjament musical. L'evidència suggereix que Yoshiisa Oku i Hayashi Akimori (fill d'Hiromori) foren els autors de la música; Hiromori Hayashi hi havia posat el seu nom quan actuà com a supervisor i músic suprem de la cort imperial. La cançó fou presentada també com una melodia d'estil occidental per Franz Eckert i s'ha utilitzat des de 1880. Les lletres en la partitura estan en hiragana, i no hi ha cap esment d'un tempo per a l'arranjament vocal. L'himne s'interpreta en do major en compàs de quatre quarts (4/4).

Hinomaru i Kimi ga jo abans de 1999
L'hinomaru fou molt utilitzat en banderes militars del període Sengoku als s. XV i XVI. Durant la Restauració Meiji, el 27 de febrer de 1870 (27 de gener, tercer any de Meiji en el calendari japonés), la bandera fou oficialment adoptada com el pavelló civil per la Proclamació núm. 57. L'hinomaru fou legalment la bandera nacional des de 1870 fins a 1885, però la llei japonesa no dissenyà cap bandera nacional des de 1885 fins a 1999 perquè amb la modernització del gabinet, totes les declaracions del Consell d'Estats previ s'aboliren. Malgrat això, diverses banderes militars del Japó es basen en el disseny de l'hinomaru, incloent el disc solar de la Insígnia Naval. L'hinomaru s'usà per dissenyar altres banderes japoneses, i el seu ús fou severament restringit durant els primers anys de l'ocupació del Japó després de la Segona Guerra mundial, tot i que aquestes restriccions es relaxaren després.

Kimi ga jo és un dels himnes nacionals més curts del món, amb 11 compassos i 32 caràcters. La lletra es basa en un poema yamato-uta escrit en el període Heian (794–1185) i canta una melodia composta en el període Meiji (1868–1912). El 1869, John William Fenton, líder d'una banda militar irlandesa, va notar que no hi havia himne nacional al Japó, i suggerí a Ōyama Iwao, un oficial del Clan Shimazu, que en fera un. Ōyama hi estigué d'acord, i en seleccionà la lletra.

La lletra sembla haver estat escollida per la seua semblança a l'himne nacional britànic a causa de la influència de Fenton. Després de triar la lletra de l'himne, Ōyama demanà a Fenton que en fes la melodia. Aquesta va ser la primera versió del Kimi ga jo, que fou descartada perquè la melodia "mancava de solemnitat". Al 1880, l'Agència de la Casa Imperial adoptà l'actual melodia de Kimi ga jo i es declarà himne nacional pel govern el 1888. Al 1893, Kimi ga jo fou inclòs en les cerimònies de les escoles públiques pels esforços del ministre d'Educació. Durant l'ocupació americana del Japó, no hi havia directives del Comandant Suprem de les Forces Aliades per restringir l'ús del Kimi ga jo pel govern japonés. Però només es tocava la partitura de Kimi ga jo en les cerimònies oficials després de la guerra; la lletra no es cantava.

Antecedents de la legislació
La proposta de llei es feu arran del suïcidi d'un director de l'escola d'Hiroshima, que no podia resoldre una disputa entre la seua junta escolar i els seus mestres sobre l'ús del Hinomaru i el Kimi ga jo. El director de l'Escola Superior de Sera, Ishikawa Toshihiro, se suïcidà la nit abans de la cerimònia de graduació de la seua escola. La Prefectura d'Hiroshima de la Junta Escolar exigia que tots els directors garantiren l'ús de tots dos símbols en cada cerimònia d'escola, però els professors de la Secundària Sera s'hi oposaren vehementment. Toshihiro es llevà la vida per no haver obtingut el suport dels seus mestres sobre aquest tema.

El suïcidi de Toshihiro, amb les protestes dels mestres en la cerimònia de graduació de la Preparatòria de Sela, dugué al primer ministre Keizō Obuchi, del Partit Liberal Democràtic (PLD) a redactar la legislació perquè l'Hinomaru i el Kimi ga jo foren els símbols oficials del Japó. Intentà introduir la legislació l'any 2000, però el seu secretari en cap del Gabinet, Hiromu Nonaka, ho feu coincidir amb el novembre de 1999, el desè aniversari de la
coronació de l'emperador Akihito.

Aquesta no era la primera vegada en què es proposava una llei per fer oficials els símbols Hinomaru i Kimi ga jo. Després de la devolució de Okinawa al Japó el 1972 i la crisi del petroli de 1973, el llavors primer ministre Tanaka Kakuei insinuà que legalitzaria l'ús de tots dos símbols, un moviment fet per augmentar la seua popularitat entre els votants conservadors. En aquell moment el Sindicat de Mestres del Japó s'oposava a utilitzar l'himne, perquè "es considerava una (bufetada) al desig de l'emperador" i fou vist com una connexió amb el militarisme de preguerra. Encara que la taxa d'alfabetització al Japó era del 99% llavors, molts estudiants ni tan sols sabien què era Kimi ga jo o com cantar-lo. A més d'instruir les escoles per ensenyar i tocar el Kimi ga jo, Kakuei volia que els alumnes aixequessin la bandera i llegiren el Rescripte Imperial sobre l'Educació, dictat per l'emperador Meiji el 1890, cada matí. Kakuei no reeixí a aprovar la legislació en la Dieta.

Postures dels partits polítics

A favor
Els principals partits conservadors del Japó, el Partit Liberal Democràtic i el Partit Liberal, foren els principals partidaris del projecte de llei de 1999. El secretari del PLD Yoshiro Mori digué al juny d'aquest any que el poble japonés havia acceptat l'Hinomaru i el Kimi ga jo com a símbols nacionals. El president del Partit Liberal, Ichiro Ozawa, es feu ressò del mateix sentiment i creia que la Dieta no podia opinar d'una altra manera. El Nou Kōmeitō, conegut també com el Partit del Govern Net, o PGL, fou inicialment caut sobre el projecte de llei. Tot i que alguns dels seus líders acceptaven que tots dos símbols foren acceptats pel poble, creien que establir la idea com una llei seria una violació de la Constitució. El PGL recolzà el projecte de llei a canvi de ser admés dins de la coalició del PLD.

En contra
El Partit Socialdemòcrata (PSDJ) i el Partit Comunista Japonés (PCJ) s'oposaren al projecte de llei per les connotacions de tots dos símbols amb l'època de guerra, i perquè al públic no se li havia donat l'opció de resoldre l'assumpte amb un referèndum. El president del PCJ deia que el partit preferiria nous símbols que representaren un Japó democràtic i pacífic. L'oposició del PSDJ feu un canvi en la seua postura prèvia cap als símbols; el primer ministre Tomiichi Murayama del Partit Socialista del Japó (el nom anterior del PSDJ) acceptà l'Hinomaru i el Kimi ga jo com a símbols del Japó a canvi de suport per part del PLD en la Dieta el 1994.

El Partit Democràtic del Japó
El llavors president del Partit Democràtic del Japó (PDJ), Naoto Kan, digué que el seu partit havia de recolzar la llei perquè en reconeixia tots dos com a símbols del Japó. Llavors el sotssecretari general Yukio Hatoyama creia que la llei causaria més problemes als oficials de les escoles i avalots entre els grups d'esquerra que s'oposaven a la bandera i l'himne. El PDJ proposà una esmena a la llei que designava l'Hinomaru com a bandera nacional, però no li donava al Kimi ga jo un estatus especial; se n'havia de trobar un himne alternatiu. El 16 de juliol, el PDJ n'emeté la seua esmena; si fos rebutjada, als membres del partit se'ls permetria votar lliurement. Altres grups enviaren els seus projectes de llei en contra de la legislació del govern; totes foren rebutjades abans del vot principal sobre la proposta de llei.

Opinió pública
La setmana abans de la votació en la Cambra de Consellers, The Japan Times feu una enquesta a Tòquio, Osaka i Hiroshima. Nou de cada deu enquestats preferien l'Hinomaru com a bandera nacional, i sis de cada deu recolzava el Kimi ga jo com l'himne nacional. En general, el 46% estava a favor del projecte de llei. Alguns pensaven que el Kimi ga jo era un himne inadequat per al Japó modern; alguns participants suggeriren la cançó "Sakura Sakura" en el seu lloc. Un altre suggeriment fou mantenir la melodia de Kimi ga jo però substituint-ne la lletra.

Al març de 1999 una enquesta del Yomiuri Shimbun i una altra del Consell de Recerca del Japó sobre Enquestes d'Opinió Pública al juliol de 1999 donaren resultats diferents de l'enquesta duta a terme per The Japan Times. En la primera, presa després del suïcidi de Toshihiro, el 61% considerava que els símbols del Japó havien de ser l'Hinomaru com a bandera i el Kimi ga jo com l'himne; el 64% considerava que es podien utilitzar tots dos símbols en les cerimònies escolars i un percentatge creia que els símbols s'havien de legalitzar. L'enquesta del Consell de Recerca del Japó sobre Enquestes d'Opinió Pública en mostrà resultats semblants: el 68% creia que tant l'Hinomaru i el Kimi ga jo eren símbols del Japó, i el 71% recolzava el projecte de llei en la Dieta. Ambdues enquestes inclogueren poc menys de 2.000 enquestats. Hi hagué un 15% més de suport a l'Hinomaru que al Kimi ga jo; la lletra del Kimi ga jo s'associava amb l'emperador. Les dues enquestes també palesaven que les generacions anteriors tenien més inclinació als símbols, mentre que les generacions més joves hi van mostrar sentiments més negatius.

Vots
La Cambra de Representants aprovà el projecte de llei el 22 de juliol de 1999, amb una votació de 403 a 86. La legislació s'envià a la cambra de consellers el 28 de juliol i s'aprovà el 9 d'agost per un 166 a 71 de vots. Va ser promulgada com a llei el 13 d'agost.

Reaccions

Nacional
El primer ministre Obuchi es va mostrar entusiasmat per l'aprovació de la llei, perquè establia una "base clara en la llei escrita" per a l'ús dels símbols. Pensava que era un pas important perquè Japó "estiguera en el ". L'emperador Akihito no feu comentaris sobre la llei en una conferència de premsa en el seu aniversari (23 de desembre), a causa de la prohibició constitucional per a l'emperador de parlar sobre assumptes polítics. Però n'expressà el seu descontentament al membre del Consell d'Educació de Tòquio Kunio Yonenaga al 2004 en esmentar que obligar professors i estudiants a honorar a la bandera i l'himne no era "desitjable". El cap de la Federació de Docents lloà la legislació, perquè creia que ajudaria a inculcar a les persones respecte als símbols del país, reduint així els incidents internacionals, com l'esbronc als himnes d'altres estats per part dels japonesos. La legislació també fou condemnada per alguns japonesos que menystenien les accions del seu país en la Segona Guerra mundial: sentien que tret que el govern emetés una disculpa formal, amb "penediment veritable" per aquells incidents, no veien cap raó per estar orgullosos de la bandera i l'himne.

En l'educació, un camp de batalla on es lliurà la utilització dels símbols, les reaccions també foren mixtes. La guia del pla d'estudis de 1999 decreta que "en l'entrada i les cerimònies de graduació, les escoles han d'aixecar la bandera del Japó i instar els estudiants a cantar el Kimi ga jo (himne nacional), donada la importància de la bandera i la cançó".

En la prefectura d'Hiroshima, on es troba la preparatòria de Sera, la reacció en fou majoritàriament negativa. Com una de les dues prefectures afectades directament per la Segona Guerra mundial, l'educació a Hiroshima s'ha inclinat a l'esquerra pel que fa a la informació sobre els símbols i l'emperador, pel poder dels grups indígenes, com la Lliga d'Alliberament Buraku, i els sindicats docents. Allí, l'aprovació de la llei es veié com una "molèstia", contrària a les pràctiques educatives de la prefectura i incapaç de resoldre qüestions relacionades amb la guerra.

Internacional
Més enllà del Japó, l'aprovació de la llei es rebé amb reaccions oposades. En la República Popular Xina i Corea del Sud, l'adopció oficial al 1999 de l'Hinomaru i el Kimi ga jo, amb els debats sobre l'estatus del santuari de Yasukuni, la cooperació militar entre els Estats Units i Japó, i la creació d'un míssil de defensa, s'ajuntà amb la idea que Japó s'estava movent cap a la dreta de l'espectre polític. Ambdues nacions havien estat ocupades per l'Imperi del Japó, i temien que el gir a la dreta reviuria la remilitarització japonesa.

El portaveu del Ministeri xinès d'Afers Exteriors declarà que el projecte de llei era un problema que els japonesos havien de resoldre per avançar el seu país cap a un futur de pau. A Singapur, les generacions més velles encara albergaven mals sentiments cap als símbols. El govern de les Filipines esperava que el Japó no tornara al militarisme, i que tenia dret a establir formalment els seus símbols nacionals.

Ramificacions polítiques
Als membres del PDJ se'ls permeté votar-hi segons la seua consciència; i el lideratge del partit hi estava dividit. Hatoyama va superar la seua oposició i votà per la proposta, juntament amb el Secretari General del PDJ i Tsutomu Hata. Kan votà contra la proposta. Amb excepció del PDJ, cap partit va trencar la disciplina del partit. Irònicament, Hatoyama volgué utilitzar el seu vot a la proposta com una espenta als seus companys membres del PDJ per a la unitat. La meitat del PDJ recolzà la proposta i en feu més fàcil l'aprovació del projecte de llei. La divisió del vot del PDJ demostrà la falta d'unitat dels seus membres.

Un altre factor que anà a favor de l'aprovació de la llei fou la coalició del PLD, el Partit Liberal i el PGL. En la Dieta, la unió entre el PLD i el Partit Liberal els donà majoria en la cambra menor però no en la Cambra de Regidors. El lideratge del PLD considerava a Ozawa un traïdor, però necessitava a ell i al seu partit per formar coalició per governar. Tot i que el PGL tenia un nombre relativament petit d'escons (52) en la cambra baixa i no tenia res en comú amb el PLD políticament, li atreia la idea de ser part del gabinet regnant i recolzà el PLD per aprovar la llei. El Partit Socialdemòcrata abandonà algunes plataformes clau per al partit, com la seua primera oposició als símbols, tractats de seguretat amb els Estats Units i l'existència de les Forces d'Autodefensa del Japó, per unir-se a la coalició. L'únic partit que hi mantingué la seua posició durant tot el debat fou el Partit Comunista; el PGL, el Partit Liberal i el PSDJ canviaren de bàndol per recolzar la llei.

Aquest canvi de votació feu que un periodista del The Japan Times qüestionara la racionalitat dels polítics del país sobre l'aprovació de la llei.

Aplicació i litigis
Quan la llei s'aprovà, el primer ministre Obuchi i altres oficials digueren que no es pretenia regular l'ús de la bandera i l'himne en la vida diària. Però la guia de pla d'estudis del 1999 enviada pel ministre d'Educació després de l'aprovació de la llei sobre la bandera i l'himne nacional decreta que "en l'entrada i les cerimònies de graduació, les escoles han d'alçar la bandera del Japó i instar els estudiants a cantar el Kimi ga jo (himne nacional), donada la importància de la bandera i la cançó".

Les escoles de Kyūshū, la principal illa meridional del Japó, foren les primeres a aplicar la normativa. A Tòquio, s'aplicà al 2003. A la junta d'oficials escolars se li obligà a registrar els noms dels professors que no es posaren dempeus o cantaren, i la bandera s'havia de col·locar durant les cerimònies. Les sancions hi eren renys, cursos de reeducació, retallades salarials, pèrdua dels drets de terminació, promogudes per Shintaro Ishihara, governador de Tòquio. El 2004, 243 professors foren represaliats i 67 van ser advertits per no seguir les polítiques o per fer que els seus estudiants no honoraren tots dos símbols.

Una ciutat de la Prefectura de Fukuoka va mesurar i classificar cada escola en quina mesura cantaven els estudiants el Kimi ga jo, però Tòquio fou l'única junta escolar que perpetrà càstigs a gran escala per no seguir la normativa. Segons la Junta Escolar de Tòquio, més de 400 persones hi han estat castigades des de 2004.

Alguns litigis foren arxivats per desafiar la normativa de Tòquio perquè l'ordre violava l'article 19 de la Constitució, que garanteix la "llibertat de pensament i consciència". La Cort del Districte de Tòquio s'alineà amb els professors, i dictaminà que els professors no podien ser forçats a posar-se dempeus o cantar. Però les seues decisions foren apel·lades o han estat revocades pel Tribunal Superior de Tòquio, el qual dictaminà que l'ordre no representa una violació de la Constitució. Més d'una dotzena de plets, que van des de la constitucionalitat de l'ordre de Tòquio fins a la compensació als professors castigats, han estat arxivats en les corts japoneses. L'últim, presentat el 2011, fou rebutjat per la Cort Suprema; la Cort va estar d'acord amb el Tribunal Superior de Tòquio que requerir als professors posar-se dempeus pel Kimi ga jo no era una violació de la Constitució. Després d'aquesta sentència, l'Assemblea de la Prefectura d'Osaka aprovà un decret el 3 de juny de 2011 que ordena als professors i altres empleats d'escoles d'Osaka a posar-se dempeus i cantar quan toquen el Kimigayo en les cerimònies escolars.

Referències

Bibliografia
 Amyx, Jennifer; Peter Drysdale (2003), Japanese Governance: Beyond Japan Inc., Routledge,
 Aspinall, Robert W (2001), Teachers' Unions and the Politics of Education in Japan, State University of New York Press,
 Boyd, Richard; Tak-Wing Ngo (2006), State Making in Àsia, Routledge,
 Goodman, Roger; Ian Neary (1996), Casi Studies on Human Rights in Japan, Routledge,
 Hood, Christopher (2001), Japanese Education Reform: Nakasone's Legacy, Routledge,
 Itoh, Mayumi (2003), The Hatoyama Dynasty: Japanese Political Leadership Through the Generations, Palgrave Macmillan,
 Lall, Marie; Edward Vickers (2003), Education as a Political Tool in Àsia, Routledge,
 McCormack, Gavan (2001), The Emptiness of Japanese Affluence, M. I. Sharpe,
 Okano, Kaori; Motonori Tsuchiya (1999), Education in Contemporary Japan, Cambridge University Press,
 Reed, Steven (2003), Japanese Electoral Politics: Creating a New Party System, Routledge,
 Stockwin, James (2003), Dictionary of the Modern Politics of Japan, Routledge,
 Takenaka, Yoshiharu (2003), 知っておきたい国旗・旗の基礎知識 [Flag basics you should know] (en japonès), Gifu Shimbun,
 Turnbull, Stephen; Howard Gerrard (2001), Ashigaru 1467–1649, Osprey Publishing,
 Williams, David; Rikki Kersten (2006), The Left in the Shaping of Japanese Democracy, Routledge,

 Legislació

 (en japonès) {{}}
 Archivado el 27 de abril de 2004 en la Wayback Machine. Gobierno de la Prefectura de Nara, 27-02-1870, consultado el 06-02-2010
 Constitució del Japó, Lloc web oficial del Primer Ministre del Japó i el seu Gabinet, 3 de novembre de 1946, arxivat des de l'original el 9 d'abril de 2011, consultat el 13 d'octubre de 2010
 自衛隊法施行令 [Self-Defense Forces Law Enforcement Order] (en japonès), Govern del Japó, 30 de juny de 1954, arxivat des de l'original el 7 d'abril de 2008, consultat el 25 de gener de 2008
 国旗及び国歌に関する法律 (法律第百二十七号) [Act on National Flag and Anthem, Act No. 127] (en japonès), Govern del Japó, 13 d'agost de 1999, arxivat des de l'original el 21 de maig de 2010, consultat el 6 de febrer de 2010
 国旗及び国歌の取扱いについて [Regarding the Treatment of the National Flag and Anthem] (en japonès), Policia de la Prefectura de Hokkaido, 18 de novembre de 1999, arxivat des de l'original el 6 de maig de 2008, consultat el 14 de gener de 2010
 国旗及び県旗の取扱いについて [Regarding the Treatment of the National and Prefectural Flags] (PDF) (en japonès), Policia de la Prefectura de Kanagawa, 29 de març de 2003, consultat el 22 d'octubre de 2010
 海上自衛隊旗章規則 [JMSDF Flag and Emblem Rules] (PDF) (en japonès), Ministeri de Defensa, 25 de març de 2008, consultat el 25 de setembre de 2009

Enllaços externs
 (en japonès) Història de la legislació.

Lleis
Segle XX al Japó
Símbols del Japó

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


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