Friday, October 26, 2007


The other day, I was walking around the neighborhood doing errands. I was wearing my ever-present and utterly nerdy pedometer, and was stopped at a crossing signal. To get some steps in this idle time, I was absentmindedly stepping in place a little. I glanced around me and there was an old granny next to me. She looked ninety if she was a day - frail, hunched over, tufts of snowy white hair, and a blue housecoat. She was looking at me quizzically, and tentatively stepping in place. I can only guess what was going through her mind.

In the hubbub of Machida last week, I was exiting the turnstiles of the station with a stream of other people. Suddenly, I focused on an old granddad. This wizened old dude was decked out, head to toe, in American Southwest-style cowboy gear. Beat-up old hat, chaps, string tie, belt buckle, all studded with turquoise. Above the string tie was perched a wrinkled Japanese face. The incongruity was hilarious and fantastic, and I coveted his outfit. A few days later, I saw him again on a street corner.

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