For your Thanksgiving feast today, let me regale you with a story about working birds, not the ones you eat, but the ones that bring you food. My Dad liked it when people were working. This apparently applied to birds, too.
He often described to me his visits to Japan and the marvels that he was privileged to witness there. Obviously, these trips reached him on some deep level. Looking back, I can piece together several of these sojourns to the land of the rising sun, based on memory and souvenirs. In my post last week HE WAS RICHLY STUNNED, I recounted how the currency exchange clerk followed him back to his hotel to refund him 50¢ in overcharges. Dad was not the only one who was touched by his experiences in Japan – Gloria was too, and I will circle back to her at the end of this post.
The Japanese have a custom where they give each other small presents or keepsakes on the occasion of significant meet-ups. It denotes respect and dignity for the relationship in a culture that is not outwardly expressive of such emotions. Once, for example, while I was working at Mitsubishi International, my boss’ boss took a personal vacation to Mexico. On his return, he presented every member of the entire department staff – including me – with a small bottle of Mexican hot sauce. In fact, the verb in the Japanese language “to give” is hardwired to imply that one gives upwards to the receiver (ie., the giver is small). Likewise, when you receive a gift, it is understood that you are receiving down (ie., the opposite, the receiver is small). Harmony and grace are the operative assumptions of a culture where the population is crowded together in large cities and personal space is minimal.
The Bernard Olcott Story 