The Three Bolts of Cloth

Everything always arrives twelve hours earlier over here.  My brother and my dear friend both have birthdays in late August.  Last year as I recall, I realized somewhere in early September that I’d missed both dates.  Other people, a handful, generally remember mine.  And it makes me feel warm when they do.  So, I ought to return the favor.   I tried to leave a note to remind myself this year.  Leave something there that would pop up on my calendar.

And today, is my little brother’s birthday.  At least, it has arrived here in China.  I wrote him to let me know that people were marching down the street, carrying signs chanting his name, fists pumping in the air.  This all seemed funny.  But it isn’t the first time I’ve used that line for a birthday that arrived here before it did there.   It must alter your perspective ever so slightly to have a birthday in August rather than April, as I do.  Everything always feels new in April, whereas August is always the beginning of the end.

I had a call with a colleague, who wanted to introduce me to his nephew.  He is finishing up his undergraduate work and he has focused on China.  He can speak some Chinese and has spent a summer here and now he is thinking of what to do next.   I gave him a few ideas, such as I could and generally suggested that he simply come on over throw himself into a search, from here rather than there, in Washington.  Fortunately, I asked him about what his dream-gig would be and surprisingly he mentioned his love of music and interest in the music industry.  It isn’t something I knew much about professionally, but it cast him suddenly in a different light and I immediately thought to connect him to my son, over in Tokyo who was newly involved in the music industry.  Somewhere in my mind he’s still fresh out of school as well, though he is very nearly thirty. 

And where as this man's godfather, who set up the call, is not sure if he should download Wechat for fear (admittedly, with a lower case “f”) of what information of his, the Chinese data barons might not be helping themselves to, I knew that this young man would have a Wechat account.  I sent him my user name and soon, I was contemplating his photo which is considerably more helpful than the three blots of cloth I have on mine, the blue, the yellow and the green towards discerning just who the person is.   I’m always glad to meet young people from anywhere in the world interested in China, in particular if they’ve already done some of the hard work on language.

Wednesday 8/22/18