A story I wanted to share

[dick benbow]

As a young man, enamoured with the japanese culture, I relished my job of selling newspaper ads to advertisers. Especially when it came to a nursery owned and operated by second generation japanese. For inside the front gates and slightly off to the side was another world. An authenic japanese garden, built by a well repected garden designer flown in from japan. I would sit and eat my lunch there and just absorb the aura of this special place.
As I got to know the owner, as more than just a business associate we made an agreeement. I would teach my friend about koi, and he would teach me about japanese gardens and pruning. I was able to have the pond remodeled in a portion to a deeper area for the koi ,complete with koshihara stand pipes for drainage. A well, kept new water running constantly and there was no need for filtration. My part of the bargain complete in less than a summer.
I started as an intern to learn how to keep the garden. At first I raked, cleaned up after my teacher and basically listened to him discribe what he was doing and why. This went into the next summer, before he announced I had earned the right to do the fall pruning without him being there. Boy was i ever honored and nervous.
One day as i was finishing up the last of the black pines, I noticed a stub of a branch in the plum tree near the bridge that crossed over to the heron island. So named for the sculpture of a blue heron that watched over the koi without eating them. As I was preparing to center the ladder under the offending stub, I heard the urgent voice of my teacher, "benbow-san,don't do that" he said, his voice so urgent and out of character. I turned to see him standing there anticipating my next move. "Why not", I asked. With a tear in his eye he went on to discribe how his aged mother had asked him and his brother to trim that limb as it offended her view of the garden from the kitchen window. They had assured her they'd take care of it, but they never did. In her 80's this tiny frail woman one day, got out the ten foot three legged ladder and carried it into place. Then step by step to the very top she edged
to saw down the offending limb. The brothers were so ashamed that she had to do that, that they never trimmed the stub as a remembrance of what happened.
I share this story with you as a reminder to us all that sometimes what we think we see, is not really what it appears.

[lildude]

Quote: Originally Posted by dick benbow As a young man, enamoured with the japanese culture, I relished my job of selling newspaper ads to advertisers. Especially when it came to a nursery owned and operated by second generation japanese. For inside the front gates and slightly off to the side was another world. An authenic japanese garden, built by a well repected garden designer flown in from japan. I would sit and eat my lunch there and just absorb the aura of this special place. As I got to know the owner, as more than just a business associate we made an agreeement. I would teach my friend about koi, and he would teach me about japanese gardens and pruning. I was able to have the pond remodeled in a portion to a deeper area for the koi ,complete with koshihara stand pipes for drainage. A well, kept new water running constantly and there was no need for filtration. My part of the bargain complete in less than a summer. I started as an intern to learn how to keep the garden. At first I raked, cleaned up after my teacher and basically listened to him discribe what he was doing and why. This went into the next summer, before he announced I had earned the right to do the fall pruning without him being there. Boy was i ever honored and nervous. One day as i was finishing up the last of the black pines, I noticed a stub of a branch in the plum tree near the bridge that crossed over to the heron island. So named for the sculpture of a blue heron that watched over the koi without eating them. As I was preparing to center the ladder under the offending stub, I heard the urgent voice of my teacher, "benbow-san,don't do that" he said, his voice so urgent and out of character. I turned to see him standing there anticipating my next move. "Why not", I asked. With a tear in his eye he went on to discribe how his aged mother had asked him and his brother to trim that limb as it offended her view of the garden from the kitchen window. They had assured her they'd take care of it, but they never did. In her 80's this tiny frail woman one day, got out the ten foot three legged ladder and carried it into place. Then step by step to the very top she edged to saw down the offending limb. The brothers were so ashamed that she had to do that, that they never trimmed the stub as a remembrance of what happened. I share this story with you as a reminder to us all that sometimes what we think we see, is not really what it appears.

Wow, what a powerful and Sad story! I would feel the same way if I were them. I would feel so bad if I had trimmed the limb. Although it wasnt your fault, I know how you must have felt if you did trim that limb.

[dick benbow]

was really a deliberate act.....Fortunately I was stopped in time so as not to have added any more offense to the memory.

I share this story sadly now, as the plum tree is no more. Where it lies, tons of dirt have been piled up to form the third run way at sea-tac airport in seattle.

and tho the generations come and go, and it would seem that nothing stays the same, you and I Eric, as well as all those who read this story can relate to the sensitivity of the human heart, and the love a son has for his mother.
that I hope will never change

[lildude]

Quote: Originally Posted by dick benbow was really a deliberate act.....Fortunately I was stopped in time so as not to have added any more offense to the memory. I share this story sadly now, as the plum tree is no more. Where it lies, tons of dirt have been piled up to form the third run way at sea-tac airport in seattle. and tho the generations come and go, and it would seem that nothing stays the same, you and I Eric, as well as all those who read this story can relate to the sensitivity of the human heart, and the love a son has for his mother. that I hope will never change

Ah, what a heart-ache... I am sad just thinking on how the world unknowingly treated that memory. Nearly forgotten through time.
But you can know that the story lives on through you and now us, althought physically it no longer remains. That is an honor benbow-san.
The love for my mother will never change, no matter what.

[Richard Rombold]

Honor and penance. Nobel qualities in short supply.