Rosy Glasses & Other Stories by Kazuo Ozaki

Author:Kazuo Ozaki [Ozaki, Kazuo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paul Norbury Publications/UNESCO
Published: 1988-04-11T17:00:00+00:00

I changed schools twice, going to Numazu for the second grade and to Shimosoga for the third. Mother’s parental home was in Numazu. Once while I was there, I happened to wake up in the middle of the night and discovered my grandmother—mother’s mother—sleeping next to me instead of father. I wept silently. Soon after finding some suitable playmates, I perked up a bit.

Mother’s parental home lay on the eastern edge of the city, facing the Numazu Girls’ School located on the other side of the approach to the Hiye Shrine. The approach road intersected with the old Tokai Highway and ended on the banks of the nearby Kano River. To the left of the huge stone torii spanning the approach, exactly at the intersection, stood a huckleberry tree that had soared loftily into the sky for generations. It served as a mile-post. At the right season the tree produced a super abundance of dark purple berries that attracted flocks of starlings and bubuls. (In some volume called Source Materials on Japanese History I later discovered this mile-post on a colour plate. Beyond that huge huckleberry tree one could see the second storey of mother’s parental home; the pure white of the closed shōji doors made quite an impression on me.) Kurose Bridge spans the Kano River there. I recall that it was the third span up from the river mouth. It was made of wood. On the other side lay Kanuki, and to the left, Kanuki Mountain with its expanse of pines. If I remember correctly, it cost five rin to cross the bridge.

I often played in a little boat near Kurose Bridge. In the spring I enjoyed fishing for fresh water sweetfish. Six or seven flies ran out like branches from my line of silkworm gut. My pole, made of bamboo, was three to four feet long. I caught a number of beautiful sweetfish just by skimming my flies over the surface of the water. The fish tasted bitter so I didn’t eat many of them, but my grandparents soaked them in vinegared miso paste and ate them with gusto.

At the end of each term father came home from Ise, stopping off at Numazu for a night or two. Then he took me with him to Shimosoga. When his holidays were over, I left Shimosoga with him and he dropped me off at Numazu.

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