Bicycle Repairman
- At September 29, 2019
- By admin
- In Annes Letters
0
Dear Family and Friends,
One thing that can be said with certainty about Sendai since its 2011 disaster, rebuilding has been constant. Consequently, nothing much has stayed the same. All this reconstruction, unfortunately, means nature is done away with as deliberately and rapidly as possible. What were once lush gardens are now parking lots or cement driveways. Not a tree or a shrub in sight. Apartment buildings, one after another, are clogging every inch of land, without, it seems, any thought of enough people to fill them. I find this depressing to say the least. So, I treasure all the more my little haven of earth with its minuscule garden and lone tree, with a backdrop of cedar trees and edge of sky.
The other day I headed back to my old neighborhood, wondering if the bike shop I used to go to would still be there. To my amazement it was. Suzuki San, same but older, now 78, was flexibly squatting next to a motorbike changing a tire.
“Well, well, look who’s here. Come on in,” he greeted me. His wife appeared from around the corner. “Sit down. Tell us how you are,” she said.
Mr. Suzuki has been at his shop for fifty years. “I plan on being here for a while longer. Until I am eighty at least,” he says with a proud smile. He is so healthy, friendly, and professional, I hope he will be there much longer, even as the world around him transforms into parking lots and apartments with neighbors hardly saying hello to one another.
Love,
Anne
One thing that can be said with certainty about Sendai since its 2011 disaster, rebuilding has been constant. Consequently, nothing much has stayed the same. All this reconstruction, unfortunately, means nature is done away with as deliberately and rapidly as possible. What were once lush gardens are now parking lots or cement driveways. Not a tree or a shrub in sight. Apartment buildings, one after another, are clogging every inch of land, without, it seems, any thought of enough people to fill them. I find this depressing to say the least. So, I treasure all the more my little haven of earth with its minuscule garden and lone tree, with a backdrop of cedar trees and edge of sky.
The other day I headed back to my old neighborhood, wondering if the bike shop I used to go to would still be there. To my amazement it was. Suzuki San, same but older, now 78, was flexibly squatting next to a motorbike changing a tire.
“Well, well, look who’s here. Come on in,” he greeted me. His wife appeared from around the corner. “Sit down. Tell us how you are,” she said.
We chatted for a while before Mr. Suzuki even asked about my ailing bicycle. We continued catching up as he worked. At the end he gave an extra special polish so my now sturdy vehicle would shine.
“Here’s the bill, but I won’t charge you tax since we’re friends.” Business as usual. Business with heart.
“Here’s the bill, but I won’t charge you tax since we’re friends.” Business as usual. Business with heart.
Mr. Suzuki has been at his shop for fifty years. “I plan on being here for a while longer. Until I am eighty at least,” he says with a proud smile. He is so healthy, friendly, and professional, I hope he will be there much longer, even as the world around him transforms into parking lots and apartments with neighbors hardly saying hello to one another.
Love,
Anne
