Reflections on a childhood gaff...

I remember one Christmas in particular when I was about twelve or thirteen I had asked for a new bicycle. Back then money was a little tight and a new bicycle was an item that was somewhat hard to come by. And though I didn't really expect to get one, I nonetheless had hopes that maybe, just maybe I would get one this Christmas.

At this time Mom and Dad had divorced, both having subsequently remarried. I lived with Dad while my younger siblings lived with Mom. In the small town where Dad and I lived my great uncle on Dad's side (who passed away recently, incidentally) owned a hardware store still bearing his name today where Dad and I would frequently (almost daily) stop in for a visit with my uncle, if not to pick up some needed item.

My uncle, having served in the Navy during WWII, and having gone to battle with the Japanese himself sustaining several injuries as well as witnessing the death of some of his friends and comrads during these battles, had lots of lingering misgivings and ill-feelings toward the state of Japan. And at the time of this particular Christmas -around 1977 or 1978- our trade relations with the state of Japan had improved to the point that it seemed virtually everything was now 'Made in Japan.'

Dad and my great uncle often expressed their displeasure with this movement toward trading with the Japanese, referring often to Japanese made products as 'junk,' or more specifically "Jap-Junk." Japanese made cars and motorcycles, as an example, were referred to as "Jap-Junkers." And to be frank, much of it was in actuality "junk."

As I recall I spent this particular Christmas Holiday at Mom's house. And I remember very well seeing that brand new bike sitting in front of the tree on that most memorable Christmas morning. I was so excited and pleased to see it that I could barely contain myself. Indeed, Mom had worked and saved to provide me and my siblings with the best of gifts we could ever have hoped for. And while I can't recall the exact timeline of the events as they transpired this Christmas morning, I do recall very well an incident taking place which I still have much regret about...

At some point that morning I set aside all my other gifts to focus my undivided attention on that most excellent of gifts I had received, my new bike. And as I was giving her a good going over, quietly noting each and every minor imperfection in her most beautiful whole contruction, I eventually ran across a stamped impression in the frame somewhat concealed by paint which read: "Made In Japan." At which point, unaware of my surroundings, I let out a disgusted: "It's a Jap-Junker!," along with some other bits of poorly chosen verbiage such as "it's gonna fall apart on me," and the like. I was soon to regret those words.

The problem was that Mom, deriving a great deal of pleasure from quietly observing my close and excited inspection of her gift, was attentively watching every move and listening to all the 'oohs and ahs' I was uttering up to that fateful point. And I can hardly recall a moment in my life that ever I felt so low as that moment at which I realized how hurtful this exclamation of mine was to her, unintentionally so as it was.

At length the story of this unfortunate incident made its way back to Dad who promptly sat me down and gave me some much needed instruction on bridling my tongue, as well as of being more attentive to my surroundings, and of course thinking before I actually speak. And Dad's very obvious disapproval as well as his disappointment in what I had done was enough in and of itself to sink my sense of worth to the depths of self-loathing. But I think perhaps the best lesson was in seeing and realizing how hurtful this had been to Mom, who had put so much effort into providing us with with some very memorable gifts that Christmas among others. It was incidents like that one which finally led to my realization of what a sorry piece of self-indulgent work I truly was.

But one of the happy endings to the story is that the new bicycle proved to be an extreme exception to my ill-expressed perceptions as to its quality and durability as it provided me with miles and miles of riding pleasure, not to mention enduring some extensive measure of abuse and neglect. And how, you may be asking, did I account for that most notable attribution stamped into its framework? Well, as I recall I purchased a sticker of an American flag and placed it over the offending revelation. "Out of sight, out of mind." lol

-DW