Mike Cash
骨も命も皆此の土地に埋めよう
- 15 Mar 2002
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A dear friend and well respected and loved member of our JREF family, Mars Man, passed away December 18, 2015 at about 10:30 p.m. at the age of fifty-nine. While he hadn't been active with us for a couple of years, in the past he not only was a very active and valued contributor to discussions on JREF he was also the host to several annual JREF meetups over the Golden Week holidays. Many of us had a chance to visit his home in the beautiful mountains of Shiga -mura, in the rural outskirts of Matsumoto City.
Mars Man's real name was Oliver Carter, formerly of Alabama by way of Arizona. For the last 30+ years he was a resident of the Matsumoto area. Oliver was a talented artist and chef and an enthusiastic music lover, being not too bad a guitar picker himself. In addition to hosting barbeque parties for JREF members at his spacious home he also held such events every summer for the students he taught at a local university, with many graduated students traveling quite a distance to come participate long after their school days were over. I was a frequent guest at the Carter house, usually making two or three trips a year and staying from one to three nights with the family each time. I had many occasions to go to town with Oliver to one place or another. You literally couldn't go anywhere without people coming up to him and talking to him. He was known, loved, and respected by lots of people in lots of places throughout that area. I witnessed many scenes that I wish I could have videotaped to play for the people who always drag out the tired old "no mater how long you live here the Japanese will never accept you" lie. He refuted it and did it easily and without ever having meant to do so. All Oliver had to do was to be Oliver...an outgoing, warm, vibrant, energetic, enthusiastic, intelligent, and genuinely caring man.
In late 2013 Oliver had some pain in a lower left molar. The tooth ended up cracking, which through one thing and another ended up with a diagnosis of cancer in his jaw in the area of the molar. This led to a surgical procedure lasting about 24 hours, during which part of his jaw was removed and replaced with some bone harvested from his shoulder blade. This was followed by a round of radiation therapy. Between the removal of certain tissues during the surgery and collateral damage due to the radiation therapy, Oliver's ability to swallow and to speak clearly was compromised. Although his initial prospects seemed good, eating had become an arduous chore and he gradually lost weight. By spring of 2015 it became clear that the cancer had returned. Sadly, neither further surgery, additional radiation treatment, nor chemotherapy were available options at this point. He was essentially given medication for pain management and sent home to await further developments.
I went and spent Golden Week with Oliver and his family, as had become my custom. We had a small barbeque party with just us and a few guests. At the end of the barbeque the normal pattern was for the diehards to go up to his ultra-cool converted 100+ year old barn "man cave", drink beer, shoot the breeze, and play darts until the wee hours of the morning. Anyone who has ever visited can attest to his enthusiasm for throwing some darts all night long....but this time he sadly and regretfully asked to be excused. That's when I first knew that things were coming to an end and that we were merely counting down the days. At this point he still had enough energy to drive himself around, work on preparations for the barbeque, do yard work (he had a HUGE yard to cut), but had to take some breaks. He could still talk, but not at length. He did come up to the man cave and share a beer with me (he could only drink a few sips, and only from a certain beer that didn't sting his damaged throat). I never asked, but I think it may have been the last time he was ever up there.
I went back in August to attend his barbeque for his students, riding my motorcycle up as soon as I finished work and arriving near midnight. He came outside to meet me, we talked for a while under his garage and shared a beer. He had lost considerable weight and energy since May; the change was stark and alarming. Still, he got around a bit and did some of the preparations for the barbeque but with much more frequent and much longer breaks. Fortunately, by this time I had been to enough barbeques at his house that I knew where he stored most of the stuff so I was able to do much of the setup work. His wife and I put up the sun awnings, something he had always done by himself before. Many current and former students came, some with their small children. We all knew it would be Oliver's last party. Sadly, Oliver only had enough energy to make two or three rather brief face-checks at the party and had to spend most of it inside, lying down. It wasn't that he was sleepy...he just didn't have the energy even to sit up for long. During the party a couple of the former students slipped away to a camera shop and quickly printed up some photos from the party and together with some other messages and things they put together a very nice cork board collage for him to show their love and appreciation for him.
As we had a Silver Week in September of 2015 I promised Oliver that I would come back and keep him company during it. Just a month before he had scraped together enough energy to come outside and greet me, but this time he just feebly raised a hand in greeting from his position lying on the couch. His ability to speak was almost entirely gone. He could only manage to whisper a few short words at a time. I've never seen anyone so thin, weak, and fragile who wasn't in a hospital and couldn't understand why he wasn't already in one with somebody trying to get some nourishment into him. He had a scheduled hospital visit for the day after Silver Week ended. He went and was immediately admitted as an inpatient. A few days later he had a feeding tube installed and at the same time had a tracheotomy done. (He didn't actually need the tracheotomy at that point, but there was a fear the growing tumor would eventually impinge on his throat to the point he could no longer breath naturally and it would be less stressful to do both procedures in a single surgery). He stayed in the hospital a couple of weeks, I think it was. He was able to come back home in October for a couple of weeks, with visits from a home health care nurse. But his condition wasn't getting any better and for a while he was back to being in the hospital full time, with maybe a visit home on the weekend or something. His ability to speak was effectively gone by now, although I must stress that his mind remained sharp and unaffected by his physical travails.
I was at work on Saturday, the 19th of December when early in the morning I received a message from one of Oliver's former students that Oliver had passed away the previous evening. Oliver's wake was held at his home, old school style, and I was able to finish up my work and manage to make it to Matsumoto to visit Oliver one last time. I could only stay a couple of hours, but during that time there was a steady flow of people coming by to pay their respects, many weeping inconsolably, men and women alike.
Oliver cared about people and was cared about in return. Oliver loved and was loved in return. He shared unstintingly and asked nothing in return. He spoke ill of no one and as far as I am aware, no one had an ill word to say about him.
We have lost a friend. I have lost a brother.
Mars Man's real name was Oliver Carter, formerly of Alabama by way of Arizona. For the last 30+ years he was a resident of the Matsumoto area. Oliver was a talented artist and chef and an enthusiastic music lover, being not too bad a guitar picker himself. In addition to hosting barbeque parties for JREF members at his spacious home he also held such events every summer for the students he taught at a local university, with many graduated students traveling quite a distance to come participate long after their school days were over. I was a frequent guest at the Carter house, usually making two or three trips a year and staying from one to three nights with the family each time. I had many occasions to go to town with Oliver to one place or another. You literally couldn't go anywhere without people coming up to him and talking to him. He was known, loved, and respected by lots of people in lots of places throughout that area. I witnessed many scenes that I wish I could have videotaped to play for the people who always drag out the tired old "no mater how long you live here the Japanese will never accept you" lie. He refuted it and did it easily and without ever having meant to do so. All Oliver had to do was to be Oliver...an outgoing, warm, vibrant, energetic, enthusiastic, intelligent, and genuinely caring man.
In late 2013 Oliver had some pain in a lower left molar. The tooth ended up cracking, which through one thing and another ended up with a diagnosis of cancer in his jaw in the area of the molar. This led to a surgical procedure lasting about 24 hours, during which part of his jaw was removed and replaced with some bone harvested from his shoulder blade. This was followed by a round of radiation therapy. Between the removal of certain tissues during the surgery and collateral damage due to the radiation therapy, Oliver's ability to swallow and to speak clearly was compromised. Although his initial prospects seemed good, eating had become an arduous chore and he gradually lost weight. By spring of 2015 it became clear that the cancer had returned. Sadly, neither further surgery, additional radiation treatment, nor chemotherapy were available options at this point. He was essentially given medication for pain management and sent home to await further developments.
I went and spent Golden Week with Oliver and his family, as had become my custom. We had a small barbeque party with just us and a few guests. At the end of the barbeque the normal pattern was for the diehards to go up to his ultra-cool converted 100+ year old barn "man cave", drink beer, shoot the breeze, and play darts until the wee hours of the morning. Anyone who has ever visited can attest to his enthusiasm for throwing some darts all night long....but this time he sadly and regretfully asked to be excused. That's when I first knew that things were coming to an end and that we were merely counting down the days. At this point he still had enough energy to drive himself around, work on preparations for the barbeque, do yard work (he had a HUGE yard to cut), but had to take some breaks. He could still talk, but not at length. He did come up to the man cave and share a beer with me (he could only drink a few sips, and only from a certain beer that didn't sting his damaged throat). I never asked, but I think it may have been the last time he was ever up there.
I went back in August to attend his barbeque for his students, riding my motorcycle up as soon as I finished work and arriving near midnight. He came outside to meet me, we talked for a while under his garage and shared a beer. He had lost considerable weight and energy since May; the change was stark and alarming. Still, he got around a bit and did some of the preparations for the barbeque but with much more frequent and much longer breaks. Fortunately, by this time I had been to enough barbeques at his house that I knew where he stored most of the stuff so I was able to do much of the setup work. His wife and I put up the sun awnings, something he had always done by himself before. Many current and former students came, some with their small children. We all knew it would be Oliver's last party. Sadly, Oliver only had enough energy to make two or three rather brief face-checks at the party and had to spend most of it inside, lying down. It wasn't that he was sleepy...he just didn't have the energy even to sit up for long. During the party a couple of the former students slipped away to a camera shop and quickly printed up some photos from the party and together with some other messages and things they put together a very nice cork board collage for him to show their love and appreciation for him.
As we had a Silver Week in September of 2015 I promised Oliver that I would come back and keep him company during it. Just a month before he had scraped together enough energy to come outside and greet me, but this time he just feebly raised a hand in greeting from his position lying on the couch. His ability to speak was almost entirely gone. He could only manage to whisper a few short words at a time. I've never seen anyone so thin, weak, and fragile who wasn't in a hospital and couldn't understand why he wasn't already in one with somebody trying to get some nourishment into him. He had a scheduled hospital visit for the day after Silver Week ended. He went and was immediately admitted as an inpatient. A few days later he had a feeding tube installed and at the same time had a tracheotomy done. (He didn't actually need the tracheotomy at that point, but there was a fear the growing tumor would eventually impinge on his throat to the point he could no longer breath naturally and it would be less stressful to do both procedures in a single surgery). He stayed in the hospital a couple of weeks, I think it was. He was able to come back home in October for a couple of weeks, with visits from a home health care nurse. But his condition wasn't getting any better and for a while he was back to being in the hospital full time, with maybe a visit home on the weekend or something. His ability to speak was effectively gone by now, although I must stress that his mind remained sharp and unaffected by his physical travails.
I was at work on Saturday, the 19th of December when early in the morning I received a message from one of Oliver's former students that Oliver had passed away the previous evening. Oliver's wake was held at his home, old school style, and I was able to finish up my work and manage to make it to Matsumoto to visit Oliver one last time. I could only stay a couple of hours, but during that time there was a steady flow of people coming by to pay their respects, many weeping inconsolably, men and women alike.
Oliver cared about people and was cared about in return. Oliver loved and was loved in return. He shared unstintingly and asked nothing in return. He spoke ill of no one and as far as I am aware, no one had an ill word to say about him.
We have lost a friend. I have lost a brother.