Day 499, July 29, 2021
Mental Meme
Tonight's soundtrack: Return to Forever, 2008
This weekend, to celebrate our reunion as a family, we went out for sushi at Bizen in Great Barrington. If you haven't been, Bizen is a surprising gem in the sea of mediocre sushi offerings one is often faced with. I'm not sure how they get such a fantastic array of fresh seafood, but out there in Berkshires it is like a mirage shimmering up out of the quaint and genteel funkiness that is Great Barrington.
We sat in one of their tatami rooms, which are raised a few feet off the floor. You take off your shoes before entering and sit on the floor on flat pillows placed on the reed mats and eat at tables that are just high enough to tuck your legs under. It is the traditional way, but for many of our aging legs and knees, it is a little taxing and there is a fair amount of shifting from side to side, feet bumping into feet, and awkward moans. Even so, it is a part of the pleasure of the experience, of feeling close, recognizing we are doing something special. In the tatami rooms, secured by sliding paper walls, you can theoretically close off the room from the rest of the restaurant. We closed the entrance, but kept one wall open where the servers could pass our food through to the table.
While we waited for the sushi to arrive, a man dressed in a Yankees baseball shirt and cap, stopped outside our tatami room and excitedly asked, "Do you all speak Japanese?"
It was all a little startling, we all just paused and stared at him. We had all been speaking in English. He was cheerful and didn't have any air of Asian Hate about him. Quite to the contrary, he seemed utterly fascinated.
He repeated again, enunciating a little more clearly, "Do you speak Japanese?"
My father laughed and my sister-in-law pantomimed slowly closing the tatami wall, "Sorry, covid..." she mouthed.
"We speak Korean," I told him.
"Oh you do speak another language!" He seemed excited, like he had proven something to himself, or discovered something fascinating. He said something about enjoying something, but I couldn't really hear him over the rush of blood in my ears. It was like diving into a pool and the din of music, children playing, people talking over the grill, all faded away. I think my father was good naturedly talking with him, asking a question or two, and then he continued on his merry way to the section where there are full sized chairs and tables.
The pandemic has left me out of practice with interacting with people like this man. Another time, I might have paid more notice, was it a Yankees or Mets shirt? Actually, I think it was a Mets shirt and hat. Another time, I might have asked him what he spoke, or where he was from. I might have egged on my sister-in-law to actually close the sliding wall. Or, I might have joined my father with his kind questions.
There was nothing explicitly dangerous or venomous about the man and his intentions. It was just a demonstration of what existence is like on this planet, in this country, in Great Barrington, at this moment in time. Perhaps, a few storefronts away, Karen Allen is tired of people coming in to her shop to see if she is willing to drink shots with them like Marion in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Maybe, she too, laughs and humors the good natured, not too lecherous ones.
Sometimes, I forget about things, like that man the other evening in the sushi restaurant. And then I remember them. It is like a persistent cough that keeps coming back. I suppose slightly weird people make the world interesting. Maybe without the Mets man's presence, I would not have that hilarious image of my sister-in-law pretending to close the tatami door says, "Sorry, covid." It feels like a personal mental meme that I'll repeat for anytime I find someone annoying.
Haha.
Take care and be well,
Leo
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