After a couple summers working at a Jewish girl's camp in Maine, and graduations in Western New York, in 1986 I strapped my sleeping bag to my 1976 kz400 I'd bought for $300, and drove to The Rustler Lodge in Alta Utah to find work. I toured the West by motorcycle, worked for a company owned by Ross Perot in the San Francisco Bay area, then went to Europe. I packed Ikea products at a factory in Sweden. I worked as a ski guide in the Tyrol, and as a migrant labourer in Andalucia. I was a waterski instructor on a small island in the Aegean, and, in England's West Country, for multiple world silver medalist, John Battleday. Very sexy man.
I returned to Florida, and sailed from The Bahamas to Belize on an historical vessel, the Genevieve, a 1920's Grand Banks Schooner. I eventually concluded I ought to pretend to have a real job. Thanks to my uncle, Steven Paul Jobs, I decided to go to law school. Before starting law school in Connecticut, to be certain my legal career would continue my exploits in international affairs, I began studying Japanese. In case you think I have an Apple bias, Paul Gardner Allen, the second CEO of Microsoft is also a relation.
My father would often remind us of something he learned at school. "There could have been Christianity without Christ, but there could not have been Christianity without Paul." Paul, commonly known as Paul the Apostle or Saint Paul, is best known for his contributions to the cause of Christ and the spreading and formation of Christianity in 1234. Unfortunately, there is no independent evidence of a man wandering around The Lavant with 12 guys and a woman. Christianity is based on an estimated prophet.
During law school I took a leave of absence to work on the JET Programme at a girl's high school in Ishinomaki. I spent the 1994 spring holiday hitchhiking in Malaysia, visiting Lake Toba in Indonesia, and visiting family friends in Yangon and Singapore. After a semester of law school in Tokyo, I interned at a Liberal Democratic Party think tank in Akasaka Mitsuke.
After being admitted to the New York Bar in 1997, I was invited to work for Squaresoft in Los Angeles. In 2000, I was admitted to the California Bar. In 2001, I worked at what became the largest law firm in Japan, in part because of my memoir. In 2005, I began work at a boutique firm in Osaka, where, thanks to Adv. Kohei Iwasaki, I adopted my legally registered Japanese alias, Masahisa Minamoto.
The Minamoto Clan were descended from the Emperor's offspring who did not succeed to the throne. The Japanese ideographic characters for Masahisa approximate my nickname Mak, short for McIntire. The Mac computer is named after me. In 2012, I returned to Tokyo with my Kashihara birthing spouse, Kanako 'Kana' Yoshida Allen.
Our daughter's American name is Skye 満華 Intireina Allen. Intireina is a MacIntyre matronymic. The ideographs for Skye's Japanese name, Maka, mean Full Essence. We moved to the Tennoz Isle neighbourhood of Tokyo in 2012. In August 2017 I moved to Florida, and in May 2018 I moved to Colorado. In May of 2021, I sold most of my stuff, cancelled my lease, and started a pilgramage. I drive about 50,000K a year.
In 令和４年Zerotober, I returned to Japan. In November, I moved to Nozawa. Nozawa women are known to be strong-willed. Hm, such coincidences.
Go boldly, or don't go at all. Love you.
My sixth great grandfather was born Micum McIntire in 1635 at Glencoe, Antrim, Scotland. On the losing side at the Battle of Dunbar in a British civil war, he was death marched diagonally across England, from southeastern Scotland to southwestern England.
Of the more than 10,000 losing Scottish soldiers who were death marched, about one-third survived and were shipped to America. Micum was sentenced to seven years of indentured servitude in New Hampshire, after which he made his way to York County, Maine and bought a house now called The McIntire Garrison, one of the, if not the, oldest extant wooden buildings in Maine.
After her parents emigrated from Germany, my maternal grandfather's mother was born Margaret Anne Evans in Nova Scotia in 1833. Her third son was my grandfather, Sidney Chester McIntire, born in Medford, Massachusetts in 1871, the first McIntire not born in York in well more than two centuries.
In 1894 Sidney, his father and his brother owned a "ventilating apparatus and hardware specialities" manufacturer in Boston. In 1915 Sidney continued to work full time when he started attending Northeastern Law School. According to Massachusetts Bar records he wrote onto the Bar at a law office in Boston.
He was called to the Bar of the City of Boston on 11 March 1919. On that date, 92 years later, Ishinomaki, my Japanese hometown, was destroyed by an artificial tidal wave.
My non-biological maternal grandmother, Doris Currey Martin, born in 1900, married a medical surgeon for her practice marriage. Her spouse died of hepatitis within a year.
In 1928, MacIntyre left Boston in his Cord, met Doris for the first time in the Western tier of New York, and drove with her to Key West.
Together they ferried to Cuba, returned to Key West, and drove to the Grand Canyon. In her nineties, she told me about hiking to the bottom of the Canyon, though she could not recall with whom! Doris, sporting fur and bouquet, was photographed with MacIntyre (spellings vary) on the Canyon's rim in 1928.
They kept driving to Los Angeles, then San Francisco where she nursed one of the Wright brothers in hospital. Doris and Sidney honeymooned and settled in Hawaii. In 1930 a maid with Japanese ancestry, whom they called Kimi, resided with them. My mother was born to Kimi, my biological grandmother, while they lived at 2066 Lanihuli Street.
In 1936 MacIntyre was working as an assistant district attorney until taking up private practice on King Street. A decade before the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Doris left Hawaii to raise my mother in New York. I don't recall ever hearing my mother call Doris 'Mom'. Doris was childless late in life, and since at that time there wasn't artificial insemination, my guess is Kimi was their surrogate mother.
On her 100th birthday we had a shindig to tell. Doris died at the age of 103 in New York, having lived in three centuries.
On the Emperor's birthday in 1941, a few weeks after the purported Japanese attempt to retake the Kingdom of Hawaii, my grandfather was supposedly felled by a stroke in Honolulu. He never again resided at their home at 1937 Kakela Drive. Documents suggest he died in 1944, and the Honolulu courts closed for a day out of respect. His obituary called him a kamāina, a child of the land.
Indeed, he was evacuated from Hawaii to Japan with my biological grandmother on Pearl Harbor Day. For decades he had been unsuccessfully trying to leave America. The attack on Pearl Harbor was a pretence. The purpose was not to retake the islands for Asians, but to extricate my grandparents from American hegemony.
I was unable to learn more about my biological grandmother other than a photo with her name, Kimi. In 2018, on his ninetieth birthday, my father admitted to me about my mother's, and my East Asian ancestry. My mother faked whiteness her entire life. Until a few years ago, my siblings and I were led to believe we were Caucasian.
My paternal grandmother, Ethel May Dennis, was born in Sarnia, Ontario, Canada in 1898. Her ancestors arrived in Canada when her great grandfather, Thomas Moore, born about 1800 in Knaresdale, Northumberland, emigrated from England.
Kalamazoo College, one of the pioneers in coed education, had been graduating women for more than 50 years when Ethel graduated in 1921. Ethel was active in the Kalamazoo Chapter of the United Nations Association as well as a founding member of the Kalamazoo Chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP).
After college, my paternal grandfather, Harold Brainerd Allen, started his career as a trust officer at First National Bank in Kalamazoo. Within six years, he was "treasurer of the Industrial Finance Company specialising in trust affairs." He then served on the board and as General Counsel of the bank.
Harold helped found the first Goodwill Store in Kalamazoo. Beginning in 1949, he served as Secretary on the Board of Directors at The Upjohn Company, the Pfizer kernel. Photographed in 1958, Harold is seated on the far left, second row. A Utah website calls Upjohn "one of the largest ethical drug manufacturers in the United States."
parents, hers & mine
I am writing this from Bowdoin, where my father did not go to college. Nathaniel Hawthorne and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow did. My father went to Bates for a year away from K College. My father was, and probably always will be the gentlest man I will ever know. He never cared if people thought him effeminate or weak. He had the strength of his convictions, and taught me my work ethic by showing me his when we were working on carpentry projects and lawn work at his small business. He coached our Little League team, taught me to waterski, and helped pioneer four handed dentistry by starting a trade school, a training industry which has since been subsumed by the state. He passed.
My mother was a member of the National Honor Society in high school and a class president at Middlebury College. Middlebury was the site of the first college education of women in America. She was well loved by people who knew her well, or briefly, and had an introspective, Japanese way about her. She taught me my first Japanese.
She was destined to be more than a homemaker, and eventually broke the constraints. She deserted my father and left him to raise five children. I was 16. Her death appeared, on Guy Fawkes Night, to be suicide by immolation. I don't think my father ever recovered.
I don't fault her for leaving. On the contrary, I admire her resolve. Her purported death, like her father's, was faked. The world was not yet ready. Our family's privacy has been perpetually invaded.
Twelve years after her documented death, I was to meet her again. She had moved to England and, after our reunion in spring 1991 in New Smyrna Beach, returned to England. Marcia = a marsh = The Swamp.
I won't run from who I am, nor will I be silenced. For example, during Mr. Obama's administration, the United States government's torture of me included hacking into a medical facility where I was receiving a medical procedure resulting in something akin to anal rape.
When that didn't work, and I applied for political asylum in Switzerland, Mr. Obama threatened the Swiss with complete devaluation of their currency. At American instruction, I was put in the Swiss refugee camp for known rapists, and other criminals, were housed awaiting deportation. I was almost raped in the refugee camp by two large men.
Instead of President, I often refer to United States presidents as mister. I do so because, although they might claim they have no 'personal' quarrel with my family or others America has tortured, silenced or killed, we find the violations to be very personal. If you are an American citizen reading this, I forgive you. I forgive your government, and I forgive your presidents. I will never, ever forget. None of us will.
I will not let you do to my daughter what you did to my mother. I will not. The Buddhist in me warns that striving for something is often the best way not to get it.
If, after reading this, my blog and my memoir, you still don't understand what I am, please ask someone you think is smarter than you. I appreciate your understanding.
goals 1. humanize the hoodie 2. restore Republicanism 3. restore state’s rights methods 1. attack the cause, not the symptom 2. if the Feds need taxpayer dollars for ANYTHING, let the states do the job platform 0. the lowest economic rung A. I'm usually homeless. I have...
As I've written before, when asked if I need further assistance, e.g. "Is there anything else?", I often ask "How do we find world harmony?" My question meets with a variety of responses. The best response I have heard was from a Levite.