When we left our lovely home in Phoenix to be closer to Karen’s family, I was looking for my own little Mayberry to move to.
I wanted the whole mom and pop thing, the small town feel, and when we were searching for our new home, we came upon the “main street” of this small town in southern Ohio and that was it.
I was home.
The only thing missing was Floyd and Barney chewing the fat on a bench out in front of the candy store.
I have lived in many countries and in some of the world’s largest cities, so I absolutely love the small community, only big enough to support one high school team.
One Dairy Queen.
There was this little papa-san who lived in a small village compound that was in a suburb of nowhere, not to be found on any printed map.
He was a very trippy dude.
He had a white pointy beard and smoked a long, finely-carved ivory pipe that looked like it was worth more than this man’s entire house and his meager belongings, such that they were. He kept that pipe belching plumes of sweet, gray smoke all day long.
I would visit him for tea and sweet rice cakes we would enjoy them on his front porch, where he had a vantage point to see every house in the compound. He showed this to me and smiled.
Kinda creepy, now that I think about it.
His name was Edeyo-sama and call him anything but inventive.
He had a rickety old wooden easel on his porch on which he placed a hand-painted sign on every single day; rain or shine.
The sign would display a profession du jour that would hopefully, bring him an opportunity for employment.
Today’s sign indicated he had some sort of medical training because he was providing health services. The sign was aimed directly so that it was visible from our front window; I’m sure Edeyo-sama was hoping mom would see it and seek his no doubt, wise counsel.
I had told him my sister had a cold and was staying home from school for it.
Just like he had a sign saying that he would provide veterinary services after I received a little mutt for a birthday present. And when our neighbors had a baby, the sign was ready displaying a baby clothes sale, I’m sure all made by his wife.
There was a small creek that bordered his little wooden house and we would wade in it amongst the tall grass and let the little crawdads nibble at our toes.
Not so much the big ones.
I have assimilated my belief system from several quadrants, and the discipline of several Far Eastern principles resounds with me.
This little short-short-story sets a tone for the emotion of reverence in true Oriental fashion, with an economy of words. I include this in my book EMOTIONS! Not your Mama’s ABC’s!
Rice and Fish
Maruku-san spoke in a most reverent tone of the artifacts he stumbled upon while strolling through an overgrown field. It was a warm Sunday afternoon and he had no real desire to sort through the remains of an honored elder’s life, but here they were, in a small pile at his feet.
The carved wooden rice bowl was still functional; it had escaped the ignominious fate of its successors in ornately-painted ceramic vessels. The masculine chopsticks, chipped and splintered, lay neatly to the side in preparation for yet another modest portion of rice and fish.
The foggy yellow lenses of the frail, wire-rimmed spectacles were not as fortunate. They had witnessed eighty-seven years of rich life on Honshu Island and were no longer needed.
Kneeling, without a sound, he picked up a tiny wooden box and carefully opened it. Inside there were three tarnished gold teeth. The sight of them brought a smile to Maruku-san’s face.
Silently, respectfully replacing everything in the most exact manner possible, he turned to leave. He could not make out the name on the small, crumbling headstone, but he hoped they liked the rice and fish.
***
Stay well.
