Assignment 01, Dishonored this Picnic
(first attempted July 6, 2004)
Grandfather McCormick was a writer when he was younger. Back then he was quite a different man, one of the many tattooed dudes at the beach and bar. He was in his late twenties when he got a samurai short sword tattooed on his hip. He told me many times it was called a wakazashi in Japanese but that just translates to short sword so I never saw what the big deal was. Grandfather insisted that we give him his full title of Grandfather and not just Grampa or Grandad. Grandfather traveled to Japan at least once and I believe that is where he and Grandmother met. After she had gone, Grandfather went through a normal time of mourning but he came out it transformed.
Perhaps he truly did lose his mind at some point during all of that, but I have read some of what he wrote in his early years which makes me suspicious. He wrote of planning a delusion, willingly accepting a wrong belief system and begining life anew as a new person. A fairly blatant theft of Don Quixote, in my opinion. But Grandfather was not very successful as a writer so I doubt he ever feared any criticism. By the time he put his plan in effect, it didn't matter if he was to be believed psychotic or not. He was still physically able to care for himself so he set about his remaking of his self without much interference.
I'm not sure what he did with his first and middle names, but my Grandfather Sean Nelson McCormick legally changed his last name to Miku-Koromaku. We were all told to address him either by his family position of Grandfather or by his new proper name with honorific, Miku-Koromaku-san. He was quite adamant about being properly addressed in coversation and correspondence.
He didn't buy a horse or body armor, which were once thought to be essential possessions of a samurai, but he had long ago purchased authentic samurai swords, a real wakazashi and a real katana (long sword). If asked about his armor, he explained that it was safely displayed in his castle back in his land. This always fascinated me, his land, and all the stories that seemed to be created as they were told. I may get to that but I'm getting past the point in time I'm trying to focus on. He taught me a lot about being a samurai, in the past and in the present.
Grandfather committed seppuku when I was fourteen years old. It was a beautiful sunny day, but that was before I really recognized weather or events as beautiful. But it was a beautiful day, warm but not hot, dry but not too dry. The east California landscape looked like much of mid-west America. Grandfather had chosen his home well, he owned twenty acres of desert landscape upon which he had built a small castle of a home. Grandmother had died five years earlier but she had loved the odd building they called a home. Those five years were really amazing, watching Grandfather become a samurai.
My parents drove my sister and I from San Diego that morning and we were having lunch on Grandfather's patio. It was more than a patio or porch, the building was shaped like a ship and most of the roof was the ship's deck. The picnic table and barbecue gave a certain charm that I didn't begin understand then. Grandfather was my mother's father. My mother insisted we visit him, though my father always seemed reluctant. I always thought that my father was scared of Grandfather.
~ unfinished ~
Perhaps he truly did lose his mind at some point during all of that, but I have read some of what he wrote in his early years which makes me suspicious. He wrote of planning a delusion, willingly accepting a wrong belief system and begining life anew as a new person. A fairly blatant theft of Don Quixote, in my opinion. But Grandfather was not very successful as a writer so I doubt he ever feared any criticism. By the time he put his plan in effect, it didn't matter if he was to be believed psychotic or not. He was still physically able to care for himself so he set about his remaking of his self without much interference.
I'm not sure what he did with his first and middle names, but my Grandfather Sean Nelson McCormick legally changed his last name to Miku-Koromaku. We were all told to address him either by his family position of Grandfather or by his new proper name with honorific, Miku-Koromaku-san. He was quite adamant about being properly addressed in coversation and correspondence.
He didn't buy a horse or body armor, which were once thought to be essential possessions of a samurai, but he had long ago purchased authentic samurai swords, a real wakazashi and a real katana (long sword). If asked about his armor, he explained that it was safely displayed in his castle back in his land. This always fascinated me, his land, and all the stories that seemed to be created as they were told. I may get to that but I'm getting past the point in time I'm trying to focus on. He taught me a lot about being a samurai, in the past and in the present.
Grandfather committed seppuku when I was fourteen years old. It was a beautiful sunny day, but that was before I really recognized weather or events as beautiful. But it was a beautiful day, warm but not hot, dry but not too dry. The east California landscape looked like much of mid-west America. Grandfather had chosen his home well, he owned twenty acres of desert landscape upon which he had built a small castle of a home. Grandmother had died five years earlier but she had loved the odd building they called a home. Those five years were really amazing, watching Grandfather become a samurai.
My parents drove my sister and I from San Diego that morning and we were having lunch on Grandfather's patio. It was more than a patio or porch, the building was shaped like a ship and most of the roof was the ship's deck. The picnic table and barbecue gave a certain charm that I didn't begin understand then. Grandfather was my mother's father. My mother insisted we visit him, though my father always seemed reluctant. I always thought that my father was scared of Grandfather.
posted by McCormick at 10:10 AM
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