Come in, come in! —どうぞどうぞ、お入りください！—

When I was an elementary school student, my best friend was a member of a religious group which tried hard to persuade members of the public to join.  My friend invited me round to his house to play football and to talk about religion. 

After a few months of playing football and then listening to him talking about his religion, he asked me a question. 

“Please tell me the truth.  Do you come here to learn about God, or just to play football?” 

“Ummm… I really just come to enjoy football,” I said. 

From that day, he stopped inviting me to his house, and stopped talking to me at school too.  I still saw his mother on occasion, when she came round to our house to talk about God.  I always tried to be nice, and listen to her for a few minutes and take whatever leaflet or magazine she offered. 

I still try to do the same thing in Japan when religious groups come to my front door and try to talk to me about their religion.  I let them talk for a few minutes, collect whatever pamphlet they are handing out, politely decline any invitations they make, and then say goodbye. 

Unfortunately, I made a mistake when such a person came to my door yesterday. 

It was about seven minutes before I was due to teach a lesson to a female student when the doorbell rang.  I opened the door and heard a female voice saying, “Konnichi ha!” and so I assumed that it was my student.  I opened the door wide, gave a big smile and gestured inside my door, saying, “Come in, come in!” 

The lady stepped half inside my door and started talking about her religion. 

I realised my mistake and decided I probably had a few minutes to listen and pick up a pamphlet as usual, before my student arrived. 

But the lady at my door was extremely persistent.  She was probably greatly encouraged by my enthusiastic welcome.  She invited me to do some chanting with her, which was supposed to make me happy. 

“I’m really sorry, but I’m about to start work in a few minutes.  I had really better be going,” I said. 

“What time do you finish work?” she asked. 

My tone became a little colder.  “Why do you need to know that?” I said. 

“Because I’m really keen to do this chanting with you.  I think it is really important,” she said. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m not interested,” I said. 

She still didn’t give up.  She started talking about earthquakes, she praised me for my Japanese ability, she asked if I had children.  I couldn’t close the door since she was standing in the doorway after I had invited her in. 

I had to say that I really wasn’t interested several more times before she gave me her pamphlet and left. 

I hope my old friend and his mother are doing well.  I hadn’t thought about them for a long time.

 

Soaring Dreams —空高く舞い上がる夢—

“Don’t just sit out there in your lawn chair,” someone might admonish you.  “When are you going to do something to make your dreams actually come true?” 

Maybe you can make your dreams come true whilst sitting in your lawn chair.  That’s what Larry Walters did back in 1982. 

Larry was a truck driver who had wanted to be a pilot.  But he was not allowed to fly a plane due to his poor eyesight.  So he hatched an incredible plan to experience flight by tying 42 helium filled balloons to a piece of garden furniture.  He carried a gun and planned to descend by shooting the balloons one by one and drifting gently to the ground. 

Larry’s flight was a success.  If anything, it succeeded a little too well.  His altitude rose more than he had expected – to around 16,000 feet.  His unusual flying contraption was spotted and reported by two plane pilots, and he drifted above the approach to LAX airport in Los Angeles. 

After shooting seven of the balloons, Larry accidentally dropped his gun.  Fortunately, the helium began to escape from the balloons and Larry did drift to the ground safely.  He briefly became a media sensation in America, as well as something of a laughing stock.  He lived for another 11 years, before seemingly dying by suicide. 

There is a new musical about Larry’s life, called “42 Balloons”.  Instead of treating him as a laughing stock, the musical treats him as a hero.  He may have been eccentric and rash, but at least he had the courage to pursue his dreams.

 

Vocabulary:

to admonish someone – to strongly tell off or criticise someone

[eg., My boss admonished me for coming to work in sneakers instead of business shoes.]

to hatch a plan – to create or decide upon a plan, especially a secret or cunning one

[eg., The rebels hatched a plan to attack the government forces when they were not expecting it.]

a contraption – a machine or device that seems strange or unnecessarily complicated

[eg., Leonardo Da Vinci came up with drawings of a flying contraption, which looks a little like a helicopter.]

a laughing stock – a person or thing subjected to general mockery or ridicule

[eg., I thought it was a fancy dress party and came dressed as a monster.  Unfortunately, everyone else was in regular clothes.  I became a laughing stock.]

 

Fine China —ファインな磁器—

This week I read a lovely letter, written by Simon Boas in the Jersey Evening Post.  You can find the full length version on their website.  Simon used the letter to announce that his cancer had progressed and that he did not have long to live.  It is beautifully written, and I have edited a few extracts, which you can read below.

 

1

My favourite bit of understatement ever comes not from a Brit or a Spartan but from the Japanese Emperor Hirohito. In August 1945… he broadcast that “the war situation has developed not necessarily to Japan’s advantage”.

Well, I’m sorry to have to announce that my cancer situation has also developed not necessarily to my advantage.

 

2

The prognosis is not quite “Don’t buy any green bananas”, but it’s pretty close to “Don’t start any long books”.

 

3

I have been a Samaritan and a policeman, and got off an attempted-murder charge in Vietnam (trumped up, to extract a bribe). I have seen whales and tigers and bears in the wild. I have seen air strikes, rockets and gun battles… [I’ve] been shot in the leg and pulled one of my own teeth out. the book of my life is shorter than others, it is not less of a good read.

 

4

If I whine that my life will have been shorter than many modern people’s I am massively missing the point. I’ve existed for 46 years. It’s as churlish as winning the £92m Euromillions jackpot and then complaining bitterly when you discover that there’s another winning ticket and you’ll only get half the money.

 

5

When you say – as you do, 20 times a day – “I’m fine”, realise that you don’t just mean “I’m adequate”. You are FINE. Refined. Unique. Finely crafted; fine dining; fine china! You really are fine in that sense too.

 

Vocabulary:

understatement – the making of something seem smaller or less significant than it really is

a prognosis – the expected future course of a medical condition

[eg., “The doctor told me that my illness had a poor prognosis.]

a Samaritan – Someone who goes out of their way to help others (from a story in the Bible)

a trumped up charge – a charge invented as an excuse or a false accusation

[eg., In that country, enemies of the government are sometimes arrested on trumped up charges.]

to whine – to complain too much, in an annoying tone

to be churlish – to be rude in a mean-spirited and surly way

[eg., It would be churlish to complain about the poor service in the hotel today after the staff were so friendly yesterday.]

 

Fish for Breakfast —朝食に魚—

Have you ever swallowed too much food at one time, and felt it sliding painfully down your throat? 

This happened to me while eating breakfast with my wife and son at a hotel in Tateyama recently. 

The waiter brought several plates at once and set them in front of us.  There was some bread, some fish, some salad, and some other bits and pieces.  I wasn’t sure what was in front of me, but I found some dry fish. 

“I’ll just finish off this dried fish, so that I can get this plate taken away and hopefully I will be less confused by the collection of dishes in front of me,” I thought. 

My chopsticks found the fish and I gobbled it down quickly - too quickly, and my throat felt constricted. 

I stretched my hand around the plates, looking for my glass of water.  It wasn’t there.  I turned to my wife. 

“Can you see my glass of water?” I said. 

“Hold on,” she said.  “I have to help our son with his breakfast.  I can’t do everything at once.” 

I tried to swallow some saliva, but it wasn’t helping.  Eventually my wife turned round. 

“You wanted a drink?  The waiter hasn’t brought one.  You have to get it from the self-service counter.  There’s orange juice too.  Shall I get you some orange juice?” 

I thought I had better keep things as simple as possible, to hopefully speed things along. 

“Orange juice would be great,” I said. 

My wife stood up and left.  I didn’t seem to be dying, but I felt very uncomfortable.  I was pretty sure there was a fishbone sticking in my throat.  My wife came back and I heaved a sigh of relief. 

“There’s a long queue for the orange juice,” she said.  “I’ll just wait a while until it gets quieter.”

… 

That was a long breakfast.  No more fish and seaweed at breakfast, please.  I want bacon and eggs, and plenty of orange juice and coffee.