Recently, I ran across this story about an 89-year-old man named Mitsuo who bicycled from Kobe to Tokyo because he wanted to visit his son (no spring chicken himself, at 61).
Rain along the way made it hard for Mitsuo to see through his glasses. The wet, slippery roads also caused him to fall over about 20 times (!). He had trouble with his hearing—some mornings he woke up and found he could barely hear anything. But after nine days and 600 kilometers, he made it to his son’s home. Best of all—he used old fashioned paper maps the whole way. Legend! I once rode in the opposite direction, from Tokyo to Kobe, but I was 49 years younger than Mitsuo, was doing it for selfish reasons, and relied on GPS maps.
I admire how active the senior citizens are here in Tokyo. And friendly. There's an adage you’ll hear in Japan, if you spend any length of time here: “People in Osaka are friendly, but people in Tokyo are cold.” To that, I say: smile and make a comment about the weather to the old woman volunteering at the communtiy hall in Tokyo where your daughter's dance retical is about to begin. Twenty minutes later, you’ll know what she had for breakfast on a trip to London 7 years ago, have a small cookie stuffed in your pocket, and will have missed your daughter's first set.
It wasn’t always the case, though, where I would freely offer smiles and chat with the senior citizens here.
Remember the film The Sandlot? It’s about a group of neighborhood boys who play baseball every day during the summer of 1962. The boys continually lose balls over Mr. Mertle’s fence, where his massive dog (“the Beast”) chews them up and buries them forever, just like the Beast will do to the boys if they try to get their balls back. The boys can’t ask Mr. Mertle for help either because of an urban myth that surrounds the old man:
“Are you out of your mind? Mr. Mertle's the meanest old man that ever lived. He's the one who made The Beast eat that kid,” says Michael “Squints” Palledorous.
Finally, after some mayhem in the yard when trying to retrieve a ball autographed by Babe Ruth, they meet the old man, Mr. Mertle. It turns out that he is quite friendly (it also turns out that he is James Earl Jones, one of the grandmasters of the baseball film). The urban myth dissolves, and the boys develop a friendship with Mr. Mertle.
The fear of the mysterious old man (also, remember Home Alone?) reminded me of my own feelings years ago toward the old fellas who guard sections of sidewalk near train stations in Tokyo to prevent people from illegally parking their bicycles there. Back in the day, I had my share of run-ins, getting busted for trying to leave my bicycle somewhere I shouldn't.
“Hey, no bicycle here!” I often heard.
I would nod sheepishly, slightly ticked off that I had to go all the way around the corner and pay 100 yen to park the bike legally. My instinct back then was to project some hostility toward the old men, and they soon became my common “enemy.” My own urban myth developed.
“These guys are the meanest old men that ever lived,” I heard myself saying in a voice that mimicked Squints.
Just as the myth dissolved for the boys, mine dissolved too over time. Now, I enjoy talking to the old guys around town, who are always eager for a short chat. You’ll see them not only on sidewalks guarding against bicycles, but also at crosswalks in the morning, or in the park raking leaves in the afternoon, or at the tax office answering last-minute questions the day before tax day.
The aging population in Japan has been an issue for years. One measurement the government has taken is to create a “Silver Human Resource Center” for civically-minded retired folks that places them into various part-time jobs around the community.
One of my favorite golden agers, who I have never spoken to, is the 80-year-old guy who uses one of those grabber tools to pick up trash from the cycling and running path along the river park near our home. Every day, this old dude rocks his baseball cap worn backwards, a flannel shirt in winter/old t-shirt in summer, and Hokas. Best of all—shorts. Year round. Legend!
Other placements for the civically-minded senior might include: volunteer teaching, like at a community center; computer support at a public institution, like a school; assistance at a city’s election management office; or, nursing care assistance, just to name a few.
Although I haven’t started working on my own resume yet, I already have my position picked out. I will be going for the attendant in one of the hundreds of bicycle parking lots all over the city. Depending on the lot’s size, there are usually 1-3 guys working at a time, collecting the daily 100 yen to park or helping someone fill out an application for a monthly use registration. During mid-day lulls, they often sit in an office shooting the shit.
I look forward to doing the same in my golden years. I’ll collect the coins from people while offering comments about the weather; I’ll help children slot their bicycles into the metal stands; and, I may even get cheeky and offer both “itterasshai” and “have a nice day” farewells throughout the day. During the midday lull, I imagine I’ll be sitting in the office with 1-2 coworkers, chatting about the previous night’s Yakult Swallows game. One of us will probably doze off, but the others will cover.
When our shift ends, we’ll get to the izakaya around the corner a few minutes after they open at 5 p.m., so we can get the table by the toilet. Who knows? At some point, I may even take some time off so I can visit my own children, wherever they may be living. I may even go by bicycle, and if that ever happens, I will be sure to raise a glass to old Mitsuo.
Would love to meet the Legend. Great writing Brother!
Great story! 600 km in nine days is no small feat, not only for an 89-year-old fellow, especially with that kind of bike.
I agree about old Japanese people. I still have a few diehard private students left from my teaching days - people in their 70s and early 80s - and they are some of the most interesting and talkative folks I've met in Japan. It seems that when they hit their mid-to-late 60s they lose all their inhibitions.
You may want to check out this story: https://giannisimone.substack.com/p/its-never-too-late?s=w