STAY SALTY ...... means column
Rei Shigeta Column
Still, the world is beautiful. II
from Tokyo / Japan
Writer / Editor
Born in Hikari City, Yamaguchi Prefecture in 1985.
Graduated from Japan Journalist College.
After working for an editing production company, a boxing magazine (freelance),
and a publishing production company, currently works as a writer and editor at Seihokusha Co.
DAYS/ Rei Shigeta Column
Still, the world is beautiful. II
I learned a lot from him.
The experience of being presented with a book
The last few days (it's August 20 now) have been somewhat cool.
I'm wondering if summer is going to end like this and turn into fall.
And since autumn means reading, today I would like to talk about something related to books.
(A little, or rather, a lot more forceful...!)
Have you ever received a book as a gift?
I have several times.
I received "Freddy the Leaf" for my birthday when I was in my early 20s (I think), and my son, 6, started reading it to me before bedtime more than I read it myself, and I began to appreciate the grandeur of the story more deeply and carefully.
When I was over 30 years old, married and having a baby, and was having a hard time being pressed daily with housework I was not good at, I received a copy of "Watashi ga Raku Suru Katei Jikan" ("Housework Time That Makes Me Feel at Home"). It was as if I could hear a voice behind the know-how saying, "There's no need to be in such a hurry!
It may be true for all gifts, not just books, but the moment when you think about how the giver prepared the gift ...... with his or her feelings is somehow both joyful and embarrassing.
"I learned a lot that night."
I was 19 years old when I received my first book (I mean no immediate family counts...and I'm really sorry if I forgot anyone).
At the time I was working as an administrative assistant at my high school.
I was doing clerical work in the office and also managing the books in the library.
Since I had just graduated from high school myself, I was friends with the teachers at the school, especially the infirmary teacher (we often had tea together).
It was in that infirmary that I met an older brother who was attending a regular school.
He was not a very talkative person, but when he got into the swing of things, he was very talkative, but he wasn't very brash or flirtatious. He was a very plain person.
He was a book reader, so I think he would open the library, check out books, and talk about what kind of books were interesting.... Maybe.
(It was about 15 years ago, so my memory is a little fuzzy.)
So, for Valentine's Day, I gave my brother some chocolates along with the ones I gave to the infirmary teacher.
Handmade truffles. I remember vividly that he laughed at me and said, "What a strange shape! I vividly remember that he laughed at me. Was I disrespected? I have an amazing memory when I am dissed.
In return, I received a book.
I learned a lot that night" (Gentosha Bunko) by Koki Mitani.
"Shigeta-san has big dreams, which is nice."
I Learned Many Things That Night" is a love story about a man, illustrated by Norihisa Karanihara and written by Koki Mitani.
Although it is a story, it takes place over the course of one night. Although it can be read easily, it conveys the frustration of a man who is unable to fall in love successfully.
Along with the book, I also received a letter.
I also received a letter from Mr. Shigeta, thanking me for always being there to talk to him.
He also said that after talking with Mr. Shigeta, he could attend classes comfortably (classes were held at night because the school was a regular school).
I told him that Mr. Shigeta had a big dream and that I would support him behind his back so that his dream would come true.
At the time, I didn't want to have a relationship with that brother that was something different (like a girlfriend, for example?). I didn't want to have a different relationship with that brother.
I didn't take any action because I received that book or that letter...but even now, sometimes I imagine how that brother felt when he chose that book and gave it to me, and I feel like crying.
I may forget your face, but I will never forget your presence.
I bet your brother has never had a successful love life (excuse me).
Maybe he was in love with me.
I wonder if he didn't have a dream he wanted to achieve.
(At the time, I wanted to become a writer and was planning to enter a technical college in Tokyo in a year.)
I wonder if he was envious of me, young and fearless, innocently going after my dreams (my brother was quite a bit older than me).
(He was much older than me.) Not knowing anything about human feelings, I wondered if I had hurt his feelings unconsciously.
I can't really sort out the various feelings that welled up in me, but I realized that I had an impact on someone else's heart more than I thought I did.
I also realized that someone else's presence never disappears from my mind more than I think.
I don't know what he was trying to convey in the book and the letter, but his presence still sticks in my mind.
(But I can't remember his face anymore. I'm so sorry.)
The fact that I think back on it from time to time and get emotional about it is, what can I say, a win already. Your brother.
I'm not talking about winning or losing.
But I don't think this would have been possible with just the letter. It was because of the book's slightly funny yet sad feeling, the sense of despair behind the clumsiness, and the fact that it was so surprisingly suited to the brother's way of being (Koki Mitani's theory about the brother), I think that the brother will never disappear from my mind. I think that is why he has not disappeared from my mind.
How did I come across that book? I guess I forgot to ask him. ......
The time we spent together was about one year. When I think of it in terms of my life, it's pretty short.
But it is a presence that never disappears.
I wish I could remain in someone's heart like that.
DAYS/ Rei Shigeta Column
Still, the world is beautiful. II
Learning from Men's kick view of society.
Was that my fault?
It was early 2021, about 10 days past January.
On a sunny and pleasant morning, I was riding along the riverside road with my son (then 4 years old and mischievous) on the back of my bicycle, humming a tune.
I think we were humming and talking about such trivial things as how he was going to be late for preschool and what he was going to have for lunch today.
Then, in front of me, I saw a man in his 50s, maybe.
I saw an old man in his 50s or so, wearing a bright orange down coat, walking ahead of me.
We were going in the same direction.
He glanced back, noticed our presence, and gave us the right of way (or so it seemed).
Oh, thank goodness.
The road along the river is narrow.
As we were about to pass by him, we got a kick on the rear wheel of our bicycle.
What, what, what, what!
...I was in a light panic.
(But I want to praise myself to the utmost that I didn't kick myself. Nice core, nice sense of balance.)
What do you mean? I turned around and looked at the man with a devilish expression on my face (I mean, I looked like I was about to start crying) and saw that he was ready to kick me again (like before a free kick in soccer). I was so scared that I ran into the police station nearby.
I was so scared that I rushed to the nearby police station, but I was not injured, so I did not think it was worth filing a damage report.
I will never forget the sound of my heartbeat, which was abnormally high.
It was a great vibes... (No, how to use vibes).
There are reasons I can't see, maybe.
For a while after that, maybe two weeks, I was angry and afraid of that orange downed man.
I mean, why did he kick me?
Did I do something wrong?
Why is someone who does such scary things on the loose...?
I mean, come on, get caught by the police! Why are you living like a normal person?
If you won't get caught, at least don't leave the house.
I guess it's not safe in Tokyo...
Ah, I'm afraid to even walk on a brightly lit street... I don't want to spend my days feeling this anxious...
Why do I have to live my life worrying about that man? Give me back the capacity of my head and heart!
But after making him the bad guy (well, actually, he is bad, isn't he?), complaining and blaming him, and talking about him a little bit (really, a little bit), I felt like the hands of the clock had turned a full circle, and I suddenly thought.
I wondered if it was really only the man's fault.
Don't cover scary things, maybe.
At such a time, I read a book.
Delinquent boys who can't cut the cake
The author is a child psychiatrist, and he says that some juveniles who commit crimes and are in juvenile training schools have weak cognitive abilities and are unable to recognize the world and society correctly (if that is an appropriate expression) before they reflect on their crimes.
Many of these juveniles commit crimes while living in a world that is very difficult to live in, unaware or unaware of the fact that they have weak cognitive abilities.
And that this can be prevented by education in early childhood...etc.
(I am sorry if the above perception is wrong, but please read the book.)
I am not saying that the man is "a person who commits crimes due to weak cognitive ability".
No, there is no way to be sure, and even if he were, that doesn't mean I'm going to forgive him.
It doesn't mean I'm going to do anything.
If my son had been injured, I think I would have ganged up on the other person like a stray cat that doesn't like people, or a bird of prey that comes at you with a double punch of hunger and anger (or whatever emotion you have).
Seriously, I think I really really beat the crap out of him.
(In fact, I think I have the strength to do it.)
But then I beat them to a pulp, and the police caught me, and all was well! I wondered if that was the end of the story.
Before the man's kicked the rear wheel of my bike, I wondered if there was anything I could do to stop him.
I wondered if there was something I could have done to stop him.
An angry mother learned to "look over the top".
(Please read the above subheading with the DORAKUE level-up sound effect on.)
Now, there are people in society who, whether intentionally or not, hurt someone, or cause fear in someone.
We don't want to get close to such people, we don't want to get hurt, we don't want to be afraid of them, so let's get rid of them, let's pretend we didn't see them....
I think it would be better to have a society that is not like that.
The anger and hatred that comes up reflexively will surely be uncontrollable.
But then I stop, look down, soar high into the sky like a bird of prey, and look at myself and society from there.
Then, I try to think, "Why did this happen? And then I think, "Why did this happen?
What can I do to help myself, my family, and my loved ones live comfortably in this society? I think it is a part of being a member of society to think and act accordingly.
(That does not mean that I have taken any action regarding the case of the uncle...sorry...but I think I have come to look at society from a bird's eye view...I would like to think that I have improved as a human being)
The title of this series is "The World is Still Beautiful Ⅱ".
I spent a lot of time deciding on the title of this series.
Because I don't have a naming sense.
Life can be painful, but I still want to live thinking that the world is beautiful.
I don't want to accept any comments that it's the same as a famous shoujo manga (sorry if you, Shiina Tomohiro and his fans, came here by searching for it).
The man who suddenly kicked me.
It's scary, isn't it?
I still wonder why he kicked me and my son.
If I had been seriously injured, if I had died, I would not be able to say such a beautiful thing.
But if I could, I would like to live my life in such a way that I can think, "Still, the world is beautiful.