Morning Comes | Naoyuki Agawa (Vice-President in charge of Shonan Fujisawa Campus)
2009.08.20
On July 1, I officially moved to Mita. Although I had already been gradually starting my new work before that, on this day I formally concluded my role as Dean of the Faculty of Policy Management.
A few days later, I went to SFC and stepped into my office to find a large computer display sitting in the middle of the desk. "Who put this thing on my desk without permission?" I thought for a moment, but then I realized. Oh no, this is the new Dean Kokuryo's office. I had forgotten that I had moved to the Vice-President's office next door. Even though I knew it in theory, my feet must have carried me there automatically, perhaps from working in this room for two years. I mistakenly walked into Mr. Kokuryo's room several more times after that. I'm sorry, Mr. Dean. I have finally broken the habit. I will not illegally trespass again.
SFC students may not be very familiar with the Mita Campus. My office is on the second floor of an old-fashioned building called the Jukukan-kyoku (Keio Corporate Administration), located between the old and new library buildings. People often speak of "Mita Hill," and during this hot season, after walking for just under 10 minutes from Tamachi Station, climbing the stairs at the East Gate to reach Mita Hilltop Square, and then going straight up to the second floor of the Jukukan-kyoku, I find myself quite out of breath. Sweat starts pouring out. The 20-minute walk from my home to the JR station and the 10-minute walk from Tamachi to the Mita Campus, both ways, have become my exercise during my commute.
The Jukukan-kyoku (Keio Corporate Administration) is one of the few buildings on Mita Hill to have survived the war, during which most of the area was burned down. It was built in 1926. So it's old. Parts of the first floor and basement have ceilings so low I feel like I might hit my head. For some reason, there is an iron spiral staircase inside the men's restroom on the third floor, leading upward. Aha, I thought, there must be a hideout for Yukichi Fukuzawa on the fourth floor, and he must come down quietly at night so as not to be found. I am secretly convinced of it. In fact, there are rumors that the Jukukan-kyoku is haunted at night.
Compared to the Dean's office at SFC, my room is small, dark, and stuffy. Light only comes in through a relatively small window behind me. That's why I always keep my door wide open. But when I look around, all the other Vice-Presidents keep their doors closed. This seems to be the Mita way. In fact, coming from SFC, Mita feels unpleasantly formal and a bit difficult to work in. It's awkward when the president of some company walks by while I'm having a loud discussion with the door open. I close it at times like that. I shouldn't be too much of a nuisance to others.
The people at Mita seem to think I'm a "little" strange. Some say it's more than just a "little." One day, my secretary, Ms. M, asked me, "Professor, are you Japanese?" I was speechless. "What? I'm 100 percent pure Japanese. I don't know about my distant ancestors, but why do you ask?" I replied. She said, "Because you don't seem like a typical Japanese person. The way you walk, the way you talk. Everyone says so. You must be at least a quarter 'gaijin,' right?" I was left with nothing more to say. Everyone, people from SFC should be careful. When you go to Mita, you might be mistaken for a Martian or a foreigner.
People often ask what has changed since I moved to Mita. Of course, the content of my work has changed. I spend more time at Mita than at SFC. Along with that, my commute has changed, and I can now see the Shinkansen all the time. The quality of my lunches has declined. The cafeteria is crowded and not very good. (This is true. The cafeteria at SFC is delicious). It's a hassle to go out, so I sometimes miss meals. The number of meetings has increased. But the biggest change for me has probably been the increase in business trips. Especially since, in addition to being in charge of SFC, I am also responsible for international collaboration, I sometimes have to go abroad.
In fact, in the two months or so since I started this job, I have already been on three business trips: to New York, Los Angeles, and London. They are short trips, returning in just a few days, so it's a bit tough. I'm not confident in my physical stamina, so I try not to schedule overly demanding itineraries, but it's daunting to think that business trips will continue to pile up.
But to be honest, I don't dislike traveling to faraway places. Of course, I work during the day once I reach my destination, but there are moments of unexpected free time when I am reminded that I am in a place different from my usual surroundings. At night, when I go to bed and wake up early due to jet lag, a different kind of morning arrives. Light streams in through the hotel window. Looking outside, I see the skyscrapers of New York, rows of cypress trees in California basking in the brilliant sunlight, or the London skyline from the musical *Mary Poppins*. In New York, bakers are putting bagels in the oven while it is still dark. In Los Angeles, commuter cars start running on the freeways before the sun rises. In London, the wind creates ripples on the surface of the River Thames, which sparkle in the morning sun. In each of these mornings, people begin their busy workdays.
Mornings are good. Summer mornings are especially good. Even if you work all day and are exhausted from unpleasant things, when the night ends, morning comes. You feel motivated to take on another day. No matter where you are, even if the weather is bad, morning comes, at slightly different times, all over the world. Morning also comes to each campus of Keio University, which faces various challenges. It always comes.
There is a poem from Shuntaro Tanikawa's youth titled "Nero." It contains this passage:
"And now I am remembering various summers, my own and not my own
The summer of Maisons-Laffitte
The summer of Yodo
The summer of Williamsburg
The summer of Oran
And I wonder
Just how many summers has humanity known"
I, too, remember several summers and several summer mornings, and I wonder. How many more mornings will I greet?
On the way back from London, the Japan Airlines Boeing 777-300 that took off from Heathrow Airport climbed while circling over Windsor Castle and the River Thames. Once it reached cruising altitude, it set a course northeast over England. It passed over the North Sea, flew over several islands, and continued on, looking down on the coastline of Finland and the vast land of Russia. On the plains spreading out below, countless battles were fought, nations rose and fell, and a tremendous number of people died. But from an altitude of 10,000 meters, there is only the vast expanse of land and sea, bathed in the slanted sunlight, so quiet and calm as if none of that had ever happened.
Eventually, the land grew dark and was obscured by clouds. The western sky, bathed in the setting sun, began to glow crimson. Although we were flying east, perhaps because the plane was gradually increasing its latitude, the sun, already low on the horizon, was reluctant to set. Nevertheless, the sun finally went down, the afterglow faded, and the curtain of night fell upon the great sky. As the passengers finished their meals, closed their blinds, and fell asleep in the northern sky, the day was beginning to break at both SFC and Mita, and morning was coming again.
(Published: 2009/08/20)