Give Up Some of Our Modern Conveniences

Cyberattacks are becoming an increasingly serious threat to modern society. Recent incidents in Japan have disrupted distribution networks and exposed millions of people's personal information, including images of driver's licenses. As we become more dependent on interconnected computer systems, the convenience we take for granted may also become our greatest vulnerability. Perhaps it is time to reconsider how much we rely on technology and whether we are prepared to keep society functioning when our digital systems fail.

With the rapid advancement of AI adding to the problem, cyberattacks exploiting vulnerabilities in computer systems are becoming increasingly serious, causing widespread disruption in logistics and many other sectors.

The recent leak of personal information from a car-sharing company is particularly alarming, especially because it involved driver's license information.

Although I have used a different rental car company, I cannot help wondering whether my own personal information is being properly protected.

After all, providing driver's license information when renting a car is perfectly reasonable. It would never occur to most of us that such information might be stolen.

But when information containing names, addresses, dates of birth, and even facial photographs is leaked, it is no small matter.

Japan has traditionally been considered relatively well protected from foreign attacks because it is surrounded by the sea, unlike European countries that share land borders.

Today, however, in cyberspace, criminals from other countries may be lurking right next door.

It is difficult to completely eliminate crimes that exploit the convenience of the Internet.

Indeed, perhaps some of these criminals do not even think of what they are doing as a crime.

To them, what lies beyond their computer screens may be nothing more than strings of numbers and symbols, rather than real people and real money.

How, then, should Japan and its people respond to this unprecedented crisis?

Perhaps the most reliable solution would be to return to a world of paper and pencils, but that would be absurd.

It is still fresh in our memories that a major office supplies company suffered a cyberattack that left its operations severely disrupted for several weeks.

Yes, we could even find ourselves in a situation where paper and pencils become difficult to obtain.

That may be an extreme example, but perhaps we need to consider operating our computers as standalone machines or within highly restricted networks, keeping connections to the outside world to an absolute minimum.

I realize that such amateur ideas may not be of much practical use.

Nevertheless, perhaps we need to be prepared to give up some of the conveniences we have come to enjoy.

We must establish systems that allow society to continue functioning even when cyberattacks occur.

In hospitals, for example, when electronic medical record systems go down, we are supposed to switch immediately to established downtime procedures.

Similarly, society as a whole needs mechanisms that allow essential activities to continue even when the systems we normally depend on stop working.

We have pursued convenience by entrusting almost everything to computers and connecting countless systems through networks.

Yet that very convenience is now becoming a vulnerability for society as a whole.

We have come this far without ever seriously considering the possibility of giving up the conveniences we have acquired.

Perhaps we have reached a point where we must reconsider the way we have built our society.

True resilience may require us to sacrifice a little convenience before we lose much more.

 

・・・

exploit vulnerabilities	脆弱性を悪用する。サイバーセキュリティ分野でよく使われる表現
be lurking right next door	すぐ隣に潜んでいる。目に見えない脅威を表現
it is no small matter	ただ事ではない。事態の重大さを強調
standalone machines	外部ネットワークに接続しない独立したコンピューター
downtime procedures	システム停止時の代替運用手順。医療分野でも使われる専門用語
entrust something to	～に何かを委ねる、任せる
resilience	回復力、強靭性。サイバーセキュリティや事業継続の重要概念
at the expense of	～を犠牲にして。Convenience at the expense of security（安全性を犠牲にした利便性）など

#Cybersecurity #Cyberattacks #DigitalSociety #DataBreach #DigitalDependence #CyberResilience #TechnologyAndSociety #BusinessContinuity #ModernConvenience

Political Arrogance and Bureaucratic Deference That Leave No Paper Trail

In Japan, a cabinet minister has come under fire for claiming that he reduced government funding to municipalities whose mayors did not support him in an election. Although he later denied exerting political pressure, the controversy has raised serious questions about political accountability, bureaucratic independence, and the absence of proper records. It also recalls earlier scandals in which official documents and government explanations came under scrutiny. How can citizens trust an administration when even the process behind its decisions remains unclear?

A politician once made the outrageous claim that he had cut government funding to municipalities whose mayors had refused to support him. Now that the very same politician has become a cabinet minister, his remarks have turned into a major controversy. He has offered explanation after explanation, but the more he says, the more contradictions seem to emerge. What was once a gray area is beginning to look pitch-black.

Budget allocation is a devilishly complicated business. When money runs short in one place, funds may have to be shifted from somewhere else. That much is understandable. But deliberately cutting funding to a particular community for political reasons would be an entirely different matter.

And what are we to make of bureaucrats who might take a politician's wishes into account and allow a single phone call to influence administrative decisions?

Then, when asked to explain what happened, officials respond with phrases such as, "There are no records," or "I believe that was the case."

We have seen this sort of thing before. These are people entrusted with decisions that affect the lives of ordinary citizens, yet they apparently conduct government business without keeping adequate records of how those decisions were made. The carelessness of it all leaves me speechless.

What happened to the lessons that should have been learned from the Moritomo scandal?* Did those in power ever truly reflect on what happened? No, I rather doubt they did.

Why do politicians who appear so arrogant continue to wield influence and even rise to cabinet positions? And I find it equally difficult to understand why voters continue to support such figures.

The politician reportedly referred to local construction contractors in an interview. Hearing that, one can hardly blame people for wondering whether his actions were motivated by a desire to secure votes.

Japan is already struggling with economic stagnation and an uncertain future. We have no time to waste.

Parliament should not have to spend its precious debating time dealing with controversies like this.

Would it be too much to ask him to step down?

After all, he would still have the title of "former cabinet minister" to his name. Surely that should be reward enough.

As for the bureaucrats, I would like to see them carry out their duties with a little more consideration for the perspective of ordinary, law-abiding citizens.

Civil servants, too, may be protected under Japan's Whistleblower Protection Act when certain legal conditions are met. I wish more of them would speak up when they see something wrong.

But perhaps that is easier said than done when their career prospects are at stake.

＊The Moritomo scandal involved the controversial sale of government-owned land to a private school operator in Japan and the subsequent alteration of official documents by the Ministry of Finance. The case became a major symbol of concerns over political accountability, bureaucratic conduct, and government transparency.

When those in power leave no records, who is left to take responsibility?

・・・

• leave no paper trail — 記録・証拠となる文書を残さない

• bureaucratic deference — 官僚による上位者への遠慮・追従。「忖度」の訳語

• come under fire — 厳しい批判を浴びる

• pitch-black — 真っ黒。疑惑の深まりを比喩的に表現

• a devilishly complicated business — 悪魔的なほど複雑な事柄

• leave me speechless — 開いた口が塞がらない、言葉を失う

• wield influence — 影響力を振るう

• one can hardly blame people for wondering — 人々が疑念を抱くのも無理はない

• whistleblower — 内部告発者・公益通報者

• career prospects are at stake — 将来の昇進やキャリアが危うくなる

   

#JapanesePolitics #PoliticalAccountability #GovernmentTransparency #Bureaucracy #WhistleblowerProtection #Kamakura #JapanesePathologist

Generational Change Has Reached Me, Too

Major League Baseball is in the middle of its postseason, and I have been watching the games with my usual mix of excitement and anxiety. At the same time, news of veteran players retiring reminds me that every field eventually undergoes generational change. Yesterday, I experienced a small version of that myself. It was a little sad, but it also made me think about what it means to step aside, leave something behind, and let the next generation take over.

Major League Baseball is in the middle of its postseason, and I have been watching the games nervously day after day.

While some players are still performing at the highest level, many others are once again announcing their retirement this year.

Yesterday, I too was relieved of my role as the head of a certain research group.

It made me feel a little sad, realizing that this is how generational change takes place.

Progress in research has been remarkable.

When I was younger, there were many things I used to think, “If only we could do this,” or “I wish we could study that.”

Now, many of those things have actually become possible.

And somewhere along the way, I realized that I was no longer quite able to keep up with all of them.

That is certainly a little sad, but perhaps it is also the right time to step back.

The title of my presentation at an upcoming conference is:

“Reclassification of 〇〇 Diseases: A Mechanism-Based Framework.”

In simple terms, I am proposing a new classification that moves beyond the conventional way of categorizing these diseases.

In about ten minutes of presentation time, I will try to condense much of the “experience” I have accumulated over the years.

And I plan to end with the following words:

“Our next step is a multicenter molecular study in Japan to validate and refine this framework.”

Being able to present what I have done over the years in a coherent form at an international conference is not such a bad way to bring things together.

From there, the future of this research in Japan will be entrusted to the promising young researchers of the next generation, including those who spoke at yesterday’s meeting.

Rather than clinging to my position indefinitely, perhaps I should think of this as leaving behind something of my own and handing it over to those who come next.

Once I began to think that way, the sadness I had felt started to change into another question:

What should I do next?

There is not much time to indulge in sentimentality.

For now, I simply need to prepare properly for the conference that is just around the corner.

Sometimes stepping aside is not the end of a journey, but the moment when we decide what to leave for those who follow.

・・・

• generational change — 世代交代

• be relieved of one’s role — 役職・任務を解かれる

• keep up with — 進歩などについていく

• step back — 第一線から一歩引く

• move beyond — 従来の枠を越える

• condense — 凝縮する

• coherent form — 筋道の通った、一つにまとまった形

• entrust A to B — AをBに託す

• cling to one’s position — 地位・立場にしがみつく

• indulge in sentimentality — 感傷に浸る

#GenerationalChange
#PassingTheTorch
#MedicalResearch
#AcademicLife
#InternationalConference
#Kamakura
#JapanesePathologist

A Vending Machine for Shonan Kamakura Ofunaken

This morning at Kamakura Station, I noticed a brand-new vending machine that immediately caught my attention. It belonged to Ofunaken, a long-established railway bento company famous for its pressed horse mackerel sushi. For more than a century, this local specialty has been closely associated with Kamakura and the Shonan area. And for someone like me who happens to love it, being able to buy it from a vending machine is surprisingly exciting.

This morning, on my way to work, I noticed someone standing in front of a brand-new vending machine inside Kamakura Station, studying it carefully.

Curious, I looked over and saw that the machine was wrapped in a familiar pattern. At the top were the words “Shonan Kamakura Ofunaken.”

There used to be an Ofunaken stand on the platform, toward the Kita-Kamakura end, but apparently it has now been replaced by this vending machine.

I say “apparently” because the stand was always closed during my morning and evening commuting hours, so lately I had not really known whether it was still operating or not.

A staffed shop requires at least one person to be there.

If it is going to stay open from morning until evening, one person would obviously not be enough, and the staff would also need breaks.

There were times when I went there expecting it to be open, only to find a sign saying, “On break.”

Of course, that is perfectly understandable when people are running the shop.

Still, on the rare occasions when I happened to be traveling during the daytime and had already decided that I would treat myself to my favorite aji no oshizushi, only to find the stand closed, the disappointment was considerable.

Aji no oshizushi is pressed horse mackerel sushi and has long been one of Ofunaken’s signature products. First sold in 1913 using horse mackerel from the waters around Sagami Bay, it has become a long-established local specialty associated with the Kamakura–Shonan area.

A vending machine, on the other hand, can operate around the clock—or, in the case of a railway station, at least for as long as the trains are running.

Inventory can presumably be monitored as well, making it easier to avoid running out of stock and allowing a more stable supply.

None of this is new, of course.

These have been advantages of vending machines ever since they first appeared.

Even so, the idea that I can now reliably get Ofunaken’s pressed horse mackerel sushi whenever I want still feels rather revolutionary to me.

Best of all, I can buy it here in the morning before leaving Kamakura.

That could be particularly useful when I am traveling to a conference.

Suppose, for example, I have a meeting in Osaka starting at 1 p.m.

Instead of hurriedly buying a pork cutlet sandwich at Shin-Yokohama Station, I could buy a box of pressed horse mackerel sushi at Kamakura Station in the morning, take it with me on the Shinkansen, and have it for lunch somewhere after passing Nagoya.

That sounds just about perfect.

It feels as though one more option has been added to my conference-travel routine, and I am strangely pleased about it.

We live in an age in which more and more things are being automated to save labor, and I suppose that is simply the way times are changing.

If so, I hope we will see more vending machines like this—machines that turn out to be unexpectedly useful.

Sometimes automation does not merely replace something—it quietly adds a little convenience, and even a little pleasure, to everyday life.

・・・

pressed sushi / oshizushi
押し寿司。酢飯と具材を型に入れ、上から押して形を整える寿司。

horse mackerel
鯵（アジ）。英語では aji とそのまま表記することもあります。

long-established
老舗の、長い歴史を持つ。

signature product
その店や会社を代表する看板商品。

staffed shop
店員が常駐する有人店舗。

inventory
在庫。在庫管理は inventory management。

stable supply
安定供給。

around the clock
24時間、昼夜を問わず。

#Kamakura #Ofunaken #AjiNoOshizushi #JapaneseVendingMachine #Ekiben #JapanesePathologist

Whose Heart and the Autumn Sky?

This morning’s gray sky was a complete change from yesterday’s fine weather, and the scent of fragrant olive seemed especially vivid in the damp air. Autumn weather changes quickly, and in Japan that changeability has long been compared with the human heart. But was it originally a woman’s heart, or a man’s? Looking into the history of the proverb led me to an unexpected answer — and to the thought that perhaps human fickleness has never belonged to one gender alone.

In complete contrast to yesterday’s fine weather, the sky was dull and overcast this morning.

On a day like this, the scent of fragrant olive somehow stands out more clearly and suddenly catches my attention.

This year, the shrubs we planted as a screen between our house and our neighbor’s have finally begun to flower, sending us a faint but pleasant fragrance.

The autumn sky changes from moment to moment.

In Japan, people have often said, “A woman’s heart is like the autumn sky,” comparing the rapidly changing weather with a woman’s changing feelings.

But in reality, men seem at least as likely to be unfaithful, and when it comes to being devoted to one person, I sometimes think women may have the advantage.

Whether being inclined toward multiple partners is biologically good or bad is, of course, not so simple.

From the standpoint of genetic diversity, having different partners might offer some advantage. From the standpoint of raising children, however, a stable relationship with a limited number of partners might be more beneficial.

Today, of course, a partner is not necessarily someone of the biologically opposite sex. Once we take that into account, expressions such as “a man’s heart” or “a woman’s heart” may gradually lose much of their meaning.

So I looked into the origin of this Japanese proverb.

To my surprise, the older expression was actually “A man’s heart and the autumn sky.”

Similar wording can be found in Japanese kyogen from the Muromachi period, and by the Edo period, the expression was used to describe a man’s unfaithful or changeable affections.

For a long time, Japanese dictionaries also treated the version referring to a man’s heart as the original form.

So that was how it began.

I had always assumed that the saying reflected a male point of view — a man’s frustration with the supposedly unpredictable feelings of women.

Apparently, I had it backward.

There is said to be a similar English expression, “A woman’s mind and a winter wind change oft,” so perhaps the tendency of human feelings to change is nothing for me to worry about. People seem to have noticed it everywhere, in every age.

Still, while people’s hearts are free to change, I wish the weather would settle down a little.

We had such a long spell of rain this year.

Now that the sun has finally appeared, I would like the clear weather to stay with us for a while.

Human hearts may be free to change, but I would prefer the autumn sky to make up its mind.

・・・

overcast
空が雲で覆われた「どんよりした、曇った」。
The sky was dull and overcast.

fragrant olive
金木犀。英語では fragrant olive や sweet osmanthus と呼ばれる。

stand out
「目立つ、際立つ」。香りや色、特徴などが周囲より強く感じられるときにも使える。

devoted to one person
「一人の人に一途である」。devoted には「献身的な、深く愛情を注ぐ」という意味がある。

from the standpoint of ...
「〜という観点から」。少し論理的、学術的な文章でも使いやすい表現。

fickle
「移り気な、気まぐれな」。人の感情や好みが変わりやすいことを表す。

have it backward
「逆に理解している、あべこべに考えている」。
Apparently, I had it backward.
＝「どうやら私は逆に考えていたようだ」。

make up one’s mind
「決心する、態度を決める」。最後の一文では、秋空を人間のように扱った表現。

#AutumnSky #JapaneseProverbs #FragrantOlive #ChangingSeasons #EverydayThoughts #Kamakura #JapanesePathologist

Morning on the Beach, Evening by the Harbor

 A day that began unexpectedly in the middle of the night turned into a full day by the sea. After watching Major League Baseball, I took Anne to Enoshima for a morning walk along the beach, then headed to Yokohama in the evening for a dog sports festival. By the end of the day, I realized once again how much having Anne in my life has encouraged me to go out, explore, and enjoy places I might otherwise never visit.

 I happened to wake up in the middle of the night, and that was the beginning of the end.

I immediately remembered that the Major League Baseball postseason Division Series broadcasts were starting today, so I turned on NHK.

First came the White Sox.

By the time I switched on the TV, Murakami had already hit a home run, but the White Sox went on to beat the Guardians and take their first win of the series.

Next came the Dodgers.

I was relieved when I saw a caption saying that Ohtani had gotten a hit.

Their starting pitcher was doing well, so I figured they would be all right from there. Instead of going back to sleep, I decided to take Anne out for a walk.

Since my foot had started hurting again, I drove to Enoshima and walked with her along the boardwalk and the beach.

 

There were many people by the sea, each enjoying their own kind of exercise or recreation, and Anne joined in by going into the water and having some fun of her own.

After returning home, I took care of a few things around the house, and in the late afternoon we headed to Yokohama.

Our destination was the Dog Sports Festival being held at Rinko Park, a waterfront park overlooking Yokohama Harbor.

There were all kinds of shops selling things for dogs, along with various dog-related events and activities.

So, after a day that began with far too little sleep, this is about as much as I can manage to write tonight.

 

In the morning, we were on the beach; in the evening, by the harbor.

Thanks to Anne, I spent the whole day going from one place to another.

On the way home, it suddenly occurred to me that the reason I get to visit so many places and enjoy so many different experiences is simply that Anne is with us.

Once again, I found myself grateful to her.

Sometimes a dog does more than walk beside us — she quietly expands the world we live in.

・・・

the beginning of the end
「これで終わりだ」「これが運の尽きだった」という意味の表現。ここでは少しユーモラスに使っています。

go on to do
「その後〜する」。
The White Sox went on to beat the Guardians.
＝ホワイトソックスはそのままガーディアンズを破った。

figure
ここでは「〜だろうと考える、判断する」。会話でもよく使われる自然な表現。

take care of a few things
「ちょっとした用事を片付ける」。日本語の「家のことを少し片付ける」に近い柔らかい表現。

overlook
「〜を見渡す、〜に面している」。
Rinko Park overlooks Yokohama Harbor. のように場所の説明によく使います。

occur to someone
「（考えなどが）ふと頭に浮かぶ」。
It suddenly occurred to me that ...
＝「ふと〜だと気づいた」。

expand my world
直訳すれば「私の世界を広げる」。行動範囲だけでなく、経験や人とのつながりが増えるという含みのある表現。

 

#LifeWithDogs #Enoshima #Yokohama #DogLife #WeekendWalk #Kamakura #JapanesePathologist

Why I Still Don’t Quite Feel Like a Local

I have lived in Kamakura for almost thirty years, yet I still hesitate to call myself a true local. Knowing a place, I have come to think, is not simply a matter of how long you have lived there. It is also about knowing how the streets have changed, remembering what used to stand on a certain corner, and carrying the town’s rhythms and memories inside you. In that sense, Kamakura still feels strangely unfamiliar to me.

The record-breaking stretch of rain that has lasted for more than a month finally seems likely to end today.

That said, another typhoon has already formed, so who knows how long this fine weather will last.

The other day, I was talking with an acquaintance when the recent flooding beneath the railway underpass in Geba came up in conversation.

“I was surprised that something like that could happen even in Kamakura,” the person said.

I was not quite sure what was meant by “even in Kamakura.”

From my point of view, the flooding attracted so much media attention precisely because it happened in Kamakura, one of Japan’s best-known tourist destinations.

“That area is low-lying, so it tends to flood when we get heavy rain. Local people know that, so for us it was more like, ‘Well, yes, that can happen there,’” I replied, sounding as though I knew everything about the place.

But then I wondered: how much do I really know about Kamakura?

I have lived here for nearly thirty years, so perhaps I should be able to call myself a local by now.

But compared with my wife, who grew up in Kamakura, I am still an outsider. More than that, I do not really know the atmosphere of everyday Kamakura.

A true local probably knows what the town is like during the daytime on an ordinary weekday.

I hardly do.

The Kamakura I know best is the Kamakura crowded with tourists on weekends, when I go out into town together with them.

Still, when my children were small, I used to ride my bicycle all over the city on my days off.

I also walked around Kamakura a great deal with Naito and Koro, our previous dogs.

With Anne, however, I do not walk nearly as far as I used to.

Perhaps knowing a town means knowing how it has changed.

What used to be on that corner.

What this street looked like years ago.

To recognize change, however, you first need to know the town as it once was.

And perhaps a place only truly becomes part of you when you know the streets without having to think about them—when you feel as though you could almost walk them with your eyes closed.

Naturally, I know the neighborhood around my childhood home in Tokyo well.

In fact, even Shibuya, which was simply a station I passed through during my junior high and high school years, feels more familiar to me.

Shinjuku has changed enormously, too, but I still understand its basic layout, so I rarely feel uneasy there.

Kamakura is different.

Even after all these years, it somehow does not completely feel like my “hometown.”

Sometimes I even wonder what I would do if I got lost.

Toward evening, I heard the sound of festival music coming from the direction of Egara Tenjin Shrine, so I took Anne out for a walk.

 

Perhaps being able to encounter little local events like this simply because I live here is part of what it means to be a local.

Still, I cannot help thinking that my sense of belonging would be very different if I had grown up with these sounds, festivals, streets, and seasons as an ordinary part of childhood.

Perhaps a hometown is not simply where you live, but where the memories of a place have had time to grow with you.

・・・

record-breaking stretch — 記録的に長く続く期間
low-lying — 周囲より土地が低い
outsider — よそ者、その土地の出身ではない人
everyday — 日常の、普段の
come up in conversation — 会話の話題にのぼる
be familiar with — ～に馴染みがある
basic layout — 基本的な街の構造、配置
sense of belonging — 自分がそこに属しているという感覚
grow up with — ～を身近に経験しながら育つ
hometown — 故郷、地元

#Kamakura #LocalLife #SenseOfBelonging #LivingInJapan #EverydayJapan #Kamakura #JapanesePathologist

Why Do We Say “Osumo” Only for Sumo?

The other day, I noticed something interesting in an ordinary conversation. My wife apologized to our neighbor, saying, “I’m sorry, it’s sumo time,” but in Japanese she used the word osumo with the respectful prefix “o.” We do not say “obaseball” or “osoccer.” Why does sumo receive this special treatment? Perhaps the answer lies in the unique history of sumo—not only as a sport, but also as a traditional ceremony connected with Japanese culture and spirituality.

 

The other day, I visited a neighbor in the evening while taking my dog Anne for a walk.

When my wife greeted our neighbor, she said, “I’m sorry, it’s osumo time.”

Our neighbor replied, “No problem. I don’t watch sumo.”

I actually wanted to watch the sumo broadcast, but since the rain had stopped for only a short while, I decided to give up watching the later matches and go outside.

Listening to their conversation, I suddenly realized something.

In Japanese, we say osumo.

We do not add “o” to other sports such as baseball, soccer, or basketball.

In English, sumo is simply called “sumo,” just like other sports. But in Japanese, many people naturally say osumo, with a feeling of respect and familiarity.

Of course, this may be because sumo is not only a sport. It is also connected with traditional Japanese religious ceremonies.

The origins of sumo are believed to include rituals in which people prayed for good harvests and peace in the country, showing their strength before the gods.

In ancient Japan, sumo was also performed as a court ceremony called Sumai no Sechie, where wrestlers from different regions competed in front of the emperor. Over many centuries, it developed into both a competition and a professional entertainment event, but its connection with tradition and ritual has remained.

Even today, many aspects of sumo reflect this history.

Wrestlers do not appear with dyed hair or visible tattoos. The topknot hairstyle, the ring-entering ceremony, and the traditional clothing of the referee all preserve a style that comes from the past.

Perhaps because sumo still carries this sense of ceremony, many Japanese people naturally add the respectful “o” when they say osumo.

Major League Baseball does not carry the same cultural meaning, and neither do words such as “Premier” or “Super” used in other sports.

The official name used by NHK, Japan’s public broadcaster, is Ozumo (Grand Sumo), which also reflects the special status of professional sumo.

I also remember that Yokozuna Onosato, who recently won a championship after returning from difficulties, said in an interview, “I want to become a strong osumosan.”

An osumosan is not simply an athlete. A sumo wrestler is someone who carries a tradition that once represented offering strength to the gods.

Perhaps that is why sumo wrestlers have a responsibility to protect this tradition.

And perhaps that is why, even in the future, Japanese people will continue to say osumo, with that small but meaningful “o.”

Still, there is one thing I cannot help wondering: why is it so difficult to get tickets to see sumo live? 

A single “o” may seem small, but it carries centuries of respect, tradition, and cultural memory.

・・・

respectful prefix
A word added at the beginning of a word to show respect or politeness.
（敬意や丁寧さを表す接頭語）

good harvest
A large amount of crops produced from farming.
（豊作）

ritual
A traditional ceremony performed in a special way.
（儀式、儀礼）

court ceremony
An official event held in a royal or imperial court.
（宮廷行事）

preserve
To protect something and keep it unchanged.
（保存する、守る）

cultural memory
Ideas and traditions that are passed from one generation to another.
（文化的記憶）

#Sumo
#JapaneseCulture
#TraditionalJapan
#JapaneseHistory
#SportsAndCulture
#Kamakura
#JapanesePathologist

Farewell to My Cane, for Now

The typhoon has moved away to the east, and this morning, for the first time in a while, there were breaks in the clouds. When the sky clears, my mood seems to clear with it. October has begun with a touch of autumn chill. My Achilles tendon is finally improving, too, and since yesterday I have stopped using my cane. Perhaps it is time to start moving normally again—carefully, but deliberately.

The typhoon moved away to the east, and this morning, for the first time in a while, there were breaks in the clouds.

When the sky clears, my mood seems to clear with it.

Today is the first day of October.

Perhaps because of the cooler air left behind by the typhoon, it was chilly enough this morning that I put on a jacket before leaving home.

The pain in my right Achilles tendon has eased considerably, so since yesterday I have stopped using my cane.

Walking with a cane certainly makes things easier on my leg. And on the train, it somehow makes me feel justified in sitting in a priority seat, so I tend to sit down whenever I can.

There is nothing wrong with that in itself.

But I was already getting too little exercise, and using the cane made me move even less.

People are meant to stand and move.

Sitting too much is not good for the body.

A lifestyle involving long periods of sitting is said to be associated with increased risks of diabetes, cardiovascular disease, and various other health problems.

And pathology is, after all, a very sedentary profession.

A pathologist can easily spend one or two hours at a time sitting in front of a microscope, staring through the eyepieces.

Still, I have heard that simply standing up and walking around briefly every 30 minutes can help.

So whenever my Apple Watch tells me it is time to stand, I try to obey.

If I have no particular reason to get up, I go to the restroom.

Since injuring my foot, though, my already insufficient level of exercise has fallen even further, and my weight has finally started climbing.

I have now crossed 78 kilograms, what I had regarded as my first warning line, and I feel I am approaching the point where it may become difficult to turn back.

I need to hold the line here somehow.

So I have firmly decided to stop heading for the priority seats with a cane in my hand.

There is still some pain, and I am still limping slightly.

Walking a long distance can make it hurt, but changing trains at stations is no longer a problem.

I can also climb stairs if I take them slowly.

So in everyday life, as long as I do not overdo it, I have decided to use my leg as much as I did before the injury.

Only now do I realize how important such ordinary daily habits really are.

It is still too early for me to rely on a cane.

For now, I would rather keep walking on my own two feet.

・・・

• break in the clouds — 雲の切れ間

• ease considerably — かなり和らぐ

• feel justified in doing — ～してもよいような気になる

• sedentary — 座っている時間の長い、運動量の少ない

• eyepieces — 顕微鏡などの接眼レンズ

• warning line — 警戒ライン、越えたくない境界

• hold the line — 踏ん張る、これ以上悪化させない

• limp — 足を引きずって歩く

• overdo it — 無理をする

• rely on — ～に頼る

#AchillesTendon
#HealthyHabits
#Walking
#PathologistLife
#October
#Kamakura
#JapanesePathologist

AI-Driven Job Loss Is Accelerating

AI is advancing so rapidly that the idea of machines taking human jobs no longer feels like a distant prediction. What surprises me most is that many of the jobs now under pressure are not manual ones, but highly skilled intellectual professions—doctors, programmers, scientists, and perhaps teachers. As a pathologist who uses AI almost every day, I increasingly wonder not whether AI will change my profession, but how much of it will eventually remain in human hands.

Recently, I have not been hearing very much about political developments.

The news seems to be filled day after day with floods and typhoons.

Of course, that is not really the case. There are also reports here and there about the consumption tax, U.S.-China relations, Ukraine, Iran, and other issues.

Japan’s extraordinary session of the Diet is about to convene, so I expect various political debates to begin. Yet along with an increasingly complicated international situation, rapid advances in AI are bringing fundamental changes to the structure of society.

The future looks increasingly chaotic.

U.S. President Donald Trump apparently wants AI to be called SI, or “super intelligence,” from now on, and promoted the term during his recent meeting with Chinese President Xi Jinping.

Perhaps he hopes to go down in history as the man who named it.

But whether we call it AI or SI does not fundamentally change what we use it for, so changing the name hardly seems to be the essential issue.

If OpenAI changed its name to OpenSI, though, things might begin to feel a little different.

Recently, I have begun to understand much more clearly what it really means when people say that AI will take human jobs.

I had not expected it to take over so much of the work done by intellectual professionals.

Even looking briefly around the medical profession, there are already situations in which AI can outperform physicians in diagnosis.

For an internist, if a patient’s condition, chief complaints, and clinical data are entered into an AI system, it can already produce highly accurate differential diagnoses for many diseases and even suggest treatment strategies.

Surgeons, too, should be able to reduce their workload considerably by using AI to analyze radiological images and assist them in deciding how to proceed.

As for pathologists, if we prepare the specimens correctly and accurately identify the histological findings, we can then discuss those findings with AI and work our way toward a diagnosis.

But even pathologists have no idea when “AI unemployment” might come knocking at our door.

In all these cases, however, human involvement is still assumed.

So the future may depend on how much meaningful human involvement remains possible.

And I have another concern.

Will the coming generation of doctors, who grow up practicing medicine with AI from the beginning, still have enough knowledge and experience to check whether AI is right?

Programming once seemed to be one of the professions of the future, and many people became programmers during its golden age.

Now, with the extraordinarily rapid development of AI, programmers themselves seem to be facing difficult times.

I recently read in a newspaper about AI solving a difficult mathematical problem.

Scientists, too, may eventually find themselves under considerable pressure from AI.

Perhaps the idea that truth itself will be revealed by AI will eventually apply to every field.

Education may also increasingly be handled by AI.

Teachers might someday find that their main remaining role is to interact with students as older and more experienced human beings.

Yet when I hear recent reports of disgraceful misconduct by some teachers, I can also understand why parents might sometimes feel safer entrusting certain aspects of education to AI.

Perhaps children would need to interact closely only with carefully chosen adults.

And for children who find group activities particularly difficult, AI might sometimes be a better partner for learning.

Some people will probably resist and refuse to use AI.

But they will find it difficult to compete with people who do use it.

Even if individuals resist, they are unlikely to win against groups in which the use of AI is simply taken for granted.

If so, the number of occupations that disappear or shrink because of AI may be far greater than we currently imagine.

For many people, it may soon be a case of, “I could be next.”

And remarkably, many of those people will be intellectual professionals.

I still do not know whether all of this will ultimately be good or bad for humanity.

I do not even know whether the answer will become clear while I am still alive.

But the world as it exists when I die will be the final point of the future that I personally get to see.

So I want to keep thinking carefully about what that world will look like.

The future may belong not simply to those who use AI, but to those who can still judge whether AI is right.

・・・

AI-driven job loss — AIによる雇用喪失
AI-driven は「AIによって引き起こされる」という意味。

intellectual professional — 知的専門職
医師、研究者、法律家など、専門知識を中心に仕事をする人。

differential diagnosis — 鑑別診断
可能性のある疾患を複数挙げ、絞り込んでいく医学用語。

human involvement — 人間の関与
AIに完全に任せず、人間が判断や確認に参加すること。

come knocking at one’s door — 身近な問題として迫ってくる
直訳は「戸口をノックしに来る」。ここではAI失業が自分にも迫るという比喩。

take something for granted — 当然のことと考える
本文では、AIを使うことが最初から当然になっている状態。

be under pressure — 苦境に立つ、圧力を受ける
職業や業界が変化を迫られる場合にもよく使う。

I could be next. — 次は自分かもしれない
日本語の「明日は我が身」に近い自然な表現。

 

#ArtificialIntelligence #AIJobs #FutureOfWork #MedicalAI #Pathology #Kamakura #JapanesePathologist

My Showa Days Are Back

I have been slowly bringing my late father’s old stereo system back to life. What began as a simple attempt to play some old records turned into an unexpected struggle with a tiny stylus. In the end, it was my wife—more persistent and mechanically minded than I am—who solved the problem. And when the music finally began to play, something else came back with it: a piece of the Showa era we once knew.

Today marks the 34th consecutive day of rain in the Tokyo area—an unusually long stretch of wet weather.

I have been slowly bringing my late father’s stereo system back to life.

Once I connected everything, the cassette deck worked right away, but getting the record player going was much more difficult because I first had to find a replacement stylus.

I had been thinking of taking the cartridge head to Tower Records in Shibuya and asking someone there to take a look at it. But the days went by without my managing to stop there on my way home, and eventually my wife lost patience with me and ordered a stylus online.

So far, so good.

But when I finally tried to fit the new stylus into the cartridge head, it simply would not go in.

The stylus seemed to be exactly the same size as the opening, and I had no idea what to do.

After consulting AI, I came to suspect that the piece of metal inside the opening might be part of the old stylus left behind. I tried to pull it out, but that did not work either.

I was beginning to think I had reached a dead end.

Then yesterday, my wife sent me a video on LINE saying, “It finally works.”

At first, I had no idea what she meant.

It turned out that she had taken the cartridge head to our local Nojima electronics store. They managed to fit the stylus into it and even confirmed that it produced sound.

Apparently, the opening had narrowed over the years as the material aged, so they widened it enough for the stylus to fit.

My wife belonged to a photography club when she was a student, and perhaps that explains why she has always been rather mechanically minded.

She is also very good at knowing when to ask someone else for help, and these days she has become quite adept at using AI as well.

This time, too, she tackled the problem far more enthusiastically than I did and finally solved it.

I was truly grateful.

 

To show my appreciation, I chose one of her favorites, ABBA, as the first record to play.

As I lowered the stylus onto the record, the warm, gentle sound of vinyl was soothing to my ears.

At last, our Showa days had come back to us.

As ABBA played, I looked through the record jackets I had kept all these years, refusing to sell them even when I was short of spending money.

The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Foreigner, Kiss, YMO—so many classic albums had been sleeping there.

They are all classics from the Showa era, yet none of them seems to have lost its shine.

It would be a shame not to listen to them again, little by little.

Come to think of it, LPs were fairly expensive in those days.

Japanese pressings cost around 2,500 yen, while imported records sold at places like Cisco and Disk Union in Shibuya were around 2,000 yen.

That was quite a lot of money at the time.

I wonder how much records cost these days.

I think I will go and have a look sometime.

There is, however, one problem.

I now have trouble seeing exactly where to lower the stylus onto the record.

The Showa era has come back—but somewhere along the way, it seems my eyesight has left me behind.

The Showa era has come back—but my younger eyes have not.

 

＊The Showa era (1926–1989) was a period of dramatic change in Japan, and for my generation, it is filled with memories of our younger days. 

・・・

bring something back to life — 使われなくなったものを再び使えるようにする。「生き返らせる」という比喩表現。

lose patience with someone — 人がなかなか行動しないので「しびれを切らす」「業を煮やす」。

reach a dead end — 行き詰まる、万事休すの状態になる。

mechanically minded — 機械や道具の扱いが得意な、メカに強い。

be adept at — 〜が上手である、巧みに扱える。

show my appreciation — 感謝の気持ちを示す。

Japanese pressing — 日本国内でプレス・製造されたレコード。「国内盤」。

leave someone behind — 人を置き去りにする。最後の一文では、昭和は戻ってきたのに若い頃の視力だけは戻らなかった、というユーモアを込めた表現。

#VinylRecords #ShowaEra #VintageAudio #ABBA #MusicMemories #Kamakura #JapanesePathologist