{"id":90,"date":"2021-08-23T18:52:52","date_gmt":"2021-08-23T18:52:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/commons.trincoll.edu\/jbaylis3\/a-funeral-and-a-festival\/"},"modified":"2021-08-23T20:13:33","modified_gmt":"2021-08-23T20:13:33","slug":"a-funeral-and-a-festival","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/commons.trincoll.edu\/jbaylis3\/migrated-posts\/a-funeral-and-a-festival\/","title":{"rendered":"A Funeral and a Festival"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Takumi laid his father, wife, and daughter to rest on July 30th<\/sup>, four months, two weeks, and five days after their deaths.<\/div>\n
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The ceremony was held at a funeral home \u2013 actually it would be more accurate to call it a \u201chall\u201d \u2013 in a part of Ishinomaki that was not too much further inland than the neighborhood where his home had stood.\u00a0 This area too probably took on water \u2013 most of the city did \u2013 although it looked like the hall had been restored and reopened for business for a while by this point.\u00a0 Funerals halls were in demand in Ishinomaki, as they were all along the eastern seaboard of Tohoku.<\/p>\n

I made my way to the second floor, where the Abe family\u2019s service was to take place.\u00a0 I was almost an hour early, but there was already a fairly steady stream of guests making their way into the hall.\u00a0 At the top of the stairs, Takumi, his mother, and his son Hiromu stood, greeting the guests and accepting their condolences.\u00a0 I did likewise, and they thanked me for coming from so far to attend.\u00a0 There wasn\u2019t really time to talk here, though; Takumi directed me toward the reception desk and told me that we\u2019d talk afterward.\u00a0 Then he went back to his post in the greeting line.<\/p>\n

I signed the registry and handed the attendant my koden-bukuro<\/em> \u2013 a special kind of decorated envelop used on occasions like this to present a monetary gift to the bereaved family.\u00a0 Funerals are expensive in Japan, so most families use these gifts to help them cover the various costs involved.\u00a0 I then entered the hall, a surprisingly large room, with an ornate altar painted in gold at the front.\u00a0 On either side of this stood large arrangements of flowers, bearing the names of those who had presented them to the family in memoriam \u2013 also a common sight at Japanese funerals.\u00a0 Placed in front of the altar were the three portraits Takumi had shown me at the temple.\u00a0 Before this there was a small incense burner with a box of powdered incense next to it.\u00a0 I offered some to the repose of the three souls that had waited so long for this day, bowed, and then found a seat somewhere toward the middle of the room.\u00a0 Aside from Takumi, there was no one here I knew, so it didn\u2019t matter much where I sat.\u00a0 I was surprised again at the size of the room \u2013 there must have been 400 chairs lined up in row after row, facing the altar.\u00a0 Even so, as the time of the ceremony drew near and the place filled up, I noticed attendants rushing to put extra chairs at the ends of these rows.\u00a0 Takumi\u2019s father had worked in a local business for his entire adult life.\u00a0 Takumi was of course a middle school teacher, and his wife had worked at a nursery school.\u00a0 The turnout attested to how many people knew them through these and other avenues of life.\u00a0 There were also many students in attendance, dressed in their school uniforms \u2013 friends and classmates of Kanon\u2019s.\u00a0 So many lives touched.<\/p>\n

The head priest of Saik\u014dji arrived and recited the order of the service in a beautiful baritone voice that filled the hall.\u00a0 He chanted various sutras and the nenbutsu<\/em> prayer.\u00a0 He also led the guests in a call-and-response incantation (printed in a small pamphlet each guest received at the reception desk) that struck me as almost Christian in form \u2013 if only because the only place I had ever encountered such a service before was in church, long ago.<\/p>\n

After these religious observances, the memorial portion of the service began.\u00a0 One of Kanon\u2019s friends stepped up to a podium at the front of the hall, to the right of the altar, and spoke of her friend, and what a wonderful, caring, and giving person she had been.\u00a0 She spoke of her smile and laugh.\u00a0 Then she began to talk about the last day they saw each other \u2013 \u201cthat day.\u201d\u00a0 As she continued, I became aware of a tension rising in my throat, but also in the room as a whole; the sound of someone struggling hard to suppress sobs came to me from somewhere at the back of the room, and then from other rows as well.<\/p>\n

It was the same for the next person to speak: a co-worker of Yoshiko\u2019s who described what a caring and loving person she had been to the children at the nursery school, how helpful and supportive she was as a co-worker, and how she always lit up a room with her personality \u2013 until \u201cthat day.\u201d\u00a0 The strain of holding it in was too much; many people gave themselves up to sobbing openly.<\/p>\n

I looked around me and came to the realization that most of these people \u2013 if not all of them \u2013 had been through this ordeal repeatedly in the months since \u201cthat day.\u201d\u00a0 The phrase itself \u2013 ano hi<\/em> \u2013 suggested a shared experience that needed no further description.\u00a0 Survivors of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki also used the term to refer to their own specific days, although different for those in each city.\u00a0 There as here, though, \u201cthat day\u201d marks more than just a date on a calendar: It marks a moment in life when things changed forever, almost instantly, for everyone who experienced it.\u00a0 It also designates a point at which a new kind of community was born, although the survivors had no way of knowing it on \u201cthat day,\u201d or even soon afterwards.\u00a0 This may not be a community that always stands together \u2013 of that I have no way of knowing, so I will assume that among the hisaisha<\/em> of any hisaichi<\/em> town self-interest and the paltry animosities of everyday life may be just as prevalent today as they normally are anywhere else \u2013 but they all share knowledge of what it was like to be there when the black water rushed into their city and swallowed up their homes, business, friends, and loved ones.\u00a0 This too is a kind of bond; a community of sorts in which certain things are understood without needing to be described in full.<\/p>\n

The next speakers to take the podium were Hiromu, and finally Takumi himself.\u00a0 Hiromu read a letter he had written to his grandfather, thanking him for twelve years of love and the kind of wisdom that only a grandparent can share.\u00a0 More tears and sobbing filled the room as he spoke.\u00a0 I was by no means a dispassionate observer of all this, but in the midst of it, what struck me was how clear and steady this twelve-year-old boy\u2019s voice was as he read his letter to his grandpa, yet at the same time what a powerful effect it had on us all, especially the adults.\u00a0 I would have expected Hiromu to be the first to break down.\u00a0 Here again was the resilience that I had seen in Takumi, the same kind of fortitude that probably many others in the room could muster if they were telling their own story of \u201cthat day.\u201d<\/p>\n

Takumi spoke with it was well.\u00a0 I only recall hearing his voice falter once, but he drew a deep breath and continued in a measured tone filled with a certain kind of dignity.\u00a0 \u201cWe can never forget suffering, but we can overcome it,\u201d he told his guests as he drew to a close.\u00a0 I know he hasn\u2019t done so entirely, at least not yet, but as with his son I sensed a quiet strength in that moment; if anyone in the room had a reason to break down, it was Takumi, but precisely by not<\/em> doing so, he helped all of us through our own grief at the tragedy that had befallen his family.<\/p>\n

With the service concluded, the guests left the room, to once again greet Takumi, his mother, and son.\u00a0 Takumi asked me to stick around for the reception afterwards.\u00a0 \u201cReally, we\u2019ve got more food than we can eat \u2013 we need your help.\u201d\u00a0 I of course obliged.<\/p>\n

At the reception, I met Takumi\u2019s cousin Jun, who taught English at a junior high school in Fukushima Prefecture.\u00a0 His town had not been significantly damaged by the quake nor had it been touched by the tsunami.\u00a0 It hadn\u2019t escaped the third disaster, however; the area was showing elevated radiation levels due to the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant meltdown, and had recently been designated as a \u201cvoluntary evacuation\u201d area by the government.\u00a0 If the terms sounds vague and confusing, it is because the concept behind it is far from clear itself.\u00a0 Areas designated as such lie outside of the government\u2019s initial zone for mandated evacuation \u2013 a 30km perimeter around the crippled plant.\u00a0\u00a0 In spite of this, they contain areas of radioactivity higher than the normal background rate, measured in microsevierts per hour.\u00a0 As it turns out, the idea behind the initial mandated zone was flawed to begin with.\u00a0 Radiation doesn\u2019t stream out from a central source, like rays of light do \u2013 or at least it doesn\u2019t over a wide area at levels that pose a problem.\u00a0 Rather, radioactive isotopes, particularly cesium 137, were spewed out of the plant in the days following the malfunctioning of its coolant system in steam released to relieve the pressure that threatened to crack the containment vessels and expose the reactor core.\u00a0 This cloud of radioactive matter was carried by the wind across a wide arc of the island of Honshu. \u00a0As rain fell here and there through the radioactive plume, the cesium was carried to the ground, thus creating \u201chot spots.\u201d\u00a0 Jun\u2019s town contained many such spots.<\/p>\n

Rather than revising its initially policy and designating all hot spot areas mandatory evacuation zones, the government has decided to let individual residents in hot spot areas make the decision for themselves.\u00a0 Should they choose to leave, they will be eligible for certain kinds of government funding, by dint of leaving an areas designated as such.\u00a0 This has led to tremendous confusion and animosities between neighbors \u2013some who refuse to leave the neighborhood out of fear that they\u2019ll never be allowed to return; others who want out immediately, but are seen as forsaking the community by those electing to stay on.\u00a0 There has also been no shortage of criticism for the government, of course, which many see as adopting this voluntary policy as a means of avoiding the issue of what really should have been done in these areas in mid- to late-March, including the question of whether the residents were knowingly put at risk of exposure.<\/p>\n

Jun had reluctantly made the decision to leave, and for good.\u00a0 He told me that he had applied for teaching positions in Miyagi Prefecture \u2013 even ones that were part-time \u2013 and bid his students farewell as of the end of the spring term.\u00a0 This was not easy to do, and he confessed a tremendous sense of having forsaken the town and his students.\u00a0 But he had kids of his own to think about, and being a father came before being a teacher.<\/p>\n

After the reception was over, I headed back to my hotel for a bit of a nap.\u00a0 I wondered what the JEN group was up to today.\u00a0 With no work to do, time moves slowly in a place like this.\u00a0 Takumi called me at seven to say he was on his way to pick me up for dinner.<\/p>\n

We went to a yakiniku<\/em> place and were soon joined by three of Takumi\u2019s friends from Ishinomaki, all of them teachers at various schools in town.\u00a0 The grilled meat and tripe tasted excellent, the beer was chilled to the point of producing an ice cream headache if you downed it too quickly, and the conversation \u2013 mostly in Ishinomaki Japanese \u2013 was quick and lively.\u00a0 After the meal, we made our way to a typical karaoke bar, where hostesses were paid to serve their mostly male clientele drinks (usually highly-diluted scotch or shochu<\/em> on the rocks), act interested in their conversations, and join them in the occasional duet \u2013 certainly not the most enviable job in the world.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

The setting was familiar: I\u2019d been on the yakiniku\/karaoke<\/em> tour many times before; but there were a couple of things about this specific outing that I observed, in light of the place and the occasion, that are worth noting.<\/p>\n

The first is the extent to which the people who actually witnessed the tsunami \u2013 including people like Takumi, who lost so much \u2013 still talk about \u201cthat day.\u201d\u00a0 Takumi and the three others who joined us all had stories to tell, and they did so voluntarily, without any coaxing at all.\u00a0 Nor were there any tears, even though some of the things they mentioned \u2013 witnessing people washed away or coming upon dead bodies after the water pulled back \u2013 must have been horrible to see.\u00a0 Even the women working at the karaoke<\/em> bar, who have probably heard enough stories like these from customers to write an oral history of Ishinomaki on March 11 and after, had their own stories to share.\u00a0 This wasn\u2019t the only thing we talked about that evening, but it was a subject we came back to again and again \u2013 and each time we did, no one seemed to object, nor did anyone break into tears under the weight of memory.\u00a0 I would have thought that after four and a half months, people in Ishinomaki would want to move on, especially when talking amongst themselves.\u00a0 But apparently not so: true, they did not wallow in sorrow and self-pity \u2013 in fact, most of their stories were told in a tone that suggested a lingering sense of awe for what they had seen \u2013 but I got the definite sense that these conversations were important to them.\u00a0 They wanted to discuss these things; maybe they even needed to.\u00a0 Whatever, their motives, though, no one seemed to want to change the subject.\u00a0 March 11 \u2013 \u201cthat day\u201d \u2013 was still worth talking about.<\/p>\n

I found out later, after returning to Sendai and then again after leaving Tohoku, just how much this preoccupation with March 11 set the hisaisha<\/em> apart from others.\u00a0 Once back in Sendai, I found that people still talked a lot about the quake and tsunami, where they were at 2:46pm on March 11 and the difficulties they faced in the days and weeks that followed, but not with the same kind of frequency or intensity that people in places like Ishinomaki did.\u00a0 These people were still hisaisha<\/em>, but of a different kind than those in areas directly affected by the tsunami.\u00a0 Outside of Tohoku, though, most people seem to have found other things to talk about.\u00a0 Where they were on March 11 and how much the quake disrupted their lives were still occasional topics of conversation, but for the most part, discussions of the disaster, when they occurred, had moved on to the question of how much the reconstruction would cost, and how much the government should raise taxes to pay for it.<\/p>\n

The other impression that I took away from that evening out was a fairly obvious observation on the importance of last rites for the living left behind.\u00a0 At the very beginning of the evening, as we walked to the yakiniku<\/em> restaurant from his apartment where we had parked the car, Takumi told me what a sense of relief he felt \u2013 \u201crelease\u201d might even be apropos in this case \u2013 now that he had finally held the funeral for his family members.\u00a0 He repeated this more than once in the course of the night\u2019s conversations.\u00a0 The funeral opened a path to move ahead with his life, and his son\u2019s as well.\u00a0 They would never forget those they had lost, of course, but Takumi could now give himself permission to make plans for a future that didn\u2019t include them.\u00a0 Takumi admitted that part of those plans might even include leaving Ishinomaki altogether and moving to Sendai at some point.\u00a0 With no home left in the town and the high probability that the government would eventually buy all the land in Mitsumata close the area to residential use, there really was not much of a reason to stay.\u00a0 The bereavement payments from the government and the money he collected from his wife\u2019s life insurance policy also made the idea of buying property in Sendai feasible.\u00a0 It was a bitter trade-off \u2013 and given the choice, he would rather have his family back, of course \u2013 but the living had to continue moving forward with their lives.<\/p>\n

Kawabiraki<\/strong><\/p>\n

On the 31st<\/sup> I returned to Watanohaus.\u00a0 Some of the same folks were still there \u2013 Cat, Yama-chan, Naho-san (who had arrived a day or two after I did), and Lucas (although I arrived just in time to say good-bye to him) \u2013 but most of the others had left. They had been replaced by new arrivals: Kuwabara-san, who worked in the communications department of the French Embassy in Tokyo, and two other French staff people, who I had no time to really talk to, since they were on their way home as well.\u00a0 I learned that on the two nights I was gone (which happened to be a Friday and Saturday \u2013 the ever-popular weekend slots), 30 people had been staying at the house.\u00a0 In this way, there was constant turnover, and fluctuations in the number of folks volunteering with JEN.\u00a0 There were also returnees to Watanohaus.\u00a0 Kuwabara was one, as were the two French embassy folks I met briefly.\u00a0 The next day brought yet another; Hanako-san, or \u201cHana-chan\u201d as we all called her, came back from her regular life in Osaka for the second time in a month.\u00a0 We were lucky to have her back, because she was an excellent cook.<\/p>\n

As it just so happened, July 31 and August 1 were the dates of Ishinomaki\u2019s famous Kawabiraki festival.\u00a0 The origins of this festival date back to the Edo period, when elements of it \u2013 in particular the floating of lanterns on the river to remember those who had died in water-related accidents during the previous year \u2013 were occasionally performed following early work to improve what was then called the Kitakami River.\u00a0 The first annual observance was in 1916.\u00a0 The second night of this festival \u2013 really the festival proper \u2013 always featured a gala fireworks show, in which nearly ten thousand arrays are launched.\u00a0 Apparently there had been some disagreement over whether or not to hold the festival at all this year, but those in favor had prevailed, arguing the not<\/em> to do so would be to admit that Ishinomaki was indeed too badly beaten to sustain its traditions.\u00a0 Furthermore, the festival would help uplift peoples\u2019 spirits for a change, and also serve to honor and comfort the souls of those who died in the tsunami.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>The first night was the \u201czenyasai<\/em>\u201d \u2013 which translates as the \u201cfestival of the night before.\u201d\u00a0 An annual feature of the zenyasai<\/em> for the Kawabiraki Festival is the floating of brightly-colored paper lanterns down Kyu-Kitakami River toward the bay.\u00a0 This is not an uncommon part of festivals in cities with rivers.\u00a0 Some readers may be familiar with this event \u2013 called choro-nagashi<\/em> \u2013 from its more famous observance in Hiroshima every summer, on the anniversary of the atomic bombing.\u00a0 There, the symbolism is obvious: the floating lanterns represent the souls of those killed in the attack.\u00a0 In Ishinomaki, under its present circumstances, this year\u2019s joro-nagashi<\/em> took on a similar meaning.<\/p>\n

This was very much the intention of the event\u2019s organizers, of course.\u00a0 As we walked over the main bridge from the Watanoha side of the Kyu-Kitakami River to the city center, we began to catch glimpses of the lanterns off either side of the structure.\u00a0 At about the same time, the sounds of monks chanting sutras reached our ears.\u00a0 This was a new element to the zenyasai<\/em>, added specifically to honors those who had been lost to the disaster.\u00a0 The combination produced a somber scene.\u00a0 We arrived as daylight yielded rapidly to the night.\u00a0 As the city and its river darkened, the floating lanterns became dissociated from space in the viewer\u2019s eye, seeming to drift along in a void towards an unseen horizon from which they would never return.<\/p>\n

The sense of mourning was overwhelming.\u00a0 Even as we crossed over into central Ishinomaki, the signs of damage still omnipresent, despite the large number of people walking about there was none of the clamor of conversation that one would expect to hear.\u00a0 People walked on in silence through the darkened streets, the sutras of the memorial service continuing to ring out around them.\u00a0 As we walked, I began to notice that the cheeks of some of those we passed were wet with tears.\u00a0 Others just stood in place, staring blankly at the scene around them or looking up at the sky, seeming to have lost their destination.<\/p>\n

The aroma of incense permeated the night air as we approached a row of tables placed at the end of a street that ran back towards the river.\u00a0 The sound of the sutras continued as we approached this spot, a temporary offertory, where people were invited to place a small amount of incense into the burner for the souls of the victims of the Great Eastern Japan Earthquake and Tsunami.\u00a0 We did so, bowed with our palms pressed together and then backed away to let others do the same.\u00a0 Some stood before the row of tables for a very long time, their hands held in prayer the whole time.\u00a0 I could guess from the way their shoulders heaved as we backed away that they were crying.\u00a0 I thought of the funeral again, and of the way people were overcome by grief that they probably would not have displayed if they had simply been asked to tell their story.\u00a0 Like them, those now weeping at the zenyasai<\/em> would most likely be able to tell you of their losses in the most matter-of-fact way, if you were to ask them on any other occasion.<\/p>\n

So why the eruption of emotion in situations like this?\u00a0 I don\u2019t think it was because the bereaved of Ishinomaki were repressing the pain of their memories; the composure, the almost off-handed way they could describe what happened on \u201cthat day\u201d didn\u2019t seem to suggest that they were avoiding the memories.\u00a0 Perhaps this was another sign of the special community that the survivors now share.\u00a0 There was a time to grieve, just as there were times to talk about what one had been through with a sense of awe at the power of the tsunami and the fact that one managed to survive it, sometimes even with a sense of humor.\u00a0 Grief didn\u2019t need words to express itself, though; everyone in this community understood what you must have gone through.<\/p>\n

As if to illustrate this idea of a time and place for everything, the festival proper that took place on the following night had a completely different atmosphere.\u00a0 The zenyasai<\/em> looked back to remember, honor, and grieve for the city\u2019s losses.\u00a0 In contrast, the Kawabiraki was a clamorous event.\u00a0 The streets were packed with folks \u2013 little children with their parents, the elderly, and more teenagers than I could remember seeing since I arrived in Ishinomaki, many of them dressed in traditional yukata<\/em> robes for the occasion.\u00a0 This was a real summertime matsuri<\/em>.\u00a0 Canvas canopies and stalls lined the streets in the center, selling cheap toys, cotton candy, soft drinks, beer, and festival fare from grilled corn on the cob to yakitori and grilled squid.\u00a0 There were stages set up at points throughout where bands of various genres played.\u00a0 The main stage, nearest the station and city hall, featured the headline acts \u2013 mostly Japanese hip-hop and urban contemporary \u2013 most likely aimed at the younger crowd, but the audience was a mix representative of the festival as a whole.\u00a0 I can\u2019t say I recognized any of the artists that performed before we drifted away from this stage to check out the rest of the scene, but the JEN staff told me that they were well-known, at least locally (this would seem to suggest that Ishinomaki has a music scene of some sort \u2013 something which I never had the time to check into while I was there).\u00a0 Here\u2019s a taste of the show.\u00a0 Be sure to check out Yama-chan busting some fresh moves and making something of a spectacle of himself with the teenage crowd:<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, the vocals were a bit too fast and over-amplified for me be able to catch much of what they were saying.\u00a0 I did get bits, though; messages about staying strong, hanging together, and moving on with life.\u00a0 The banner over the stage hit the same key: \u201cBonds make our hearts one \u2013 dreams, hope, bravery.\u201d<\/p>\n

I wouldn\u2019t say that the Kawabiraki, in contrast to the zenyasai<\/em> of the night before, was about the future.\u00a0 Certainly that message was there in some of the songs we heard and signs we saw, but on the whole the festival was a chance to blow off steam, to have a good time and, perhaps, take one\u2019s mind off of the losses and destruction, even for just a few hours.\u00a0 It was a chance to envision a return to the way things had been prior to March 11.\u00a0 And the people seemed to appreciate it for that.<\/p>\n

This made for symbolic little ironies.\u00a0 The finale of the evening was the fireworks display.\u00a0 I learned from Endo-san that it would actually be less than the usual ten thousand arrays this year, due to understandable budgetary constraints.\u00a0 Still, it was an impressive show.\u00a0 As we stood watching it from a location along the west bank of the Kyu-Kitakami River, in a throng of folks with their eyes cast to the sky, I noticed that lying on the ground a short distance from where we were lay the smashed hulls of two boats, thrown up and out of the river by the tsunami nearly five months ago.\u00a0 No one sat or stood on these, either out of a sense of danger or respect.\u00a0 This was not a time to look at the rubble, though; for a change there were more spectacular and hopeful things to see.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Takumi laid his father, wife, and daughter to rest on July 30th, four months, two weeks, and five days after their deaths. The ceremony was held at a funeral home \u2013 actually it would be more accurate to call it a \u201chall\u201d \u2013 in a part of Ishinomaki that was not too much further inland […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":24,"featured_media":0,"parent":694,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/commons.trincoll.edu\/jbaylis3\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/90"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/commons.trincoll.edu\/jbaylis3\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/commons.trincoll.edu\/jbaylis3\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/commons.trincoll.edu\/jbaylis3\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/24"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/commons.trincoll.edu\/jbaylis3\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=90"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/commons.trincoll.edu\/jbaylis3\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/90\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":710,"href":"https:\/\/commons.trincoll.edu\/jbaylis3\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/90\/revisions\/710"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/commons.trincoll.edu\/jbaylis3\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/694"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/commons.trincoll.edu\/jbaylis3\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=90"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}