Opinions That Matter Not

Awhile back a friend introduced me to his high school buddy.  This man becomes my accountant.  This man then introduced me to his mistress who becomes my "older sister".  She runs a small pub in my neighborhood so I go there every now and then when I crave potato salad.  (She makes the best potato salad in Tokyo.) 

At her pub I met a famous Japanese musician from several decades back from a group considered the "Japanese Beatles".  Great guy and very charming.  I now have a small defacto family near my neighborhood.

Craving potato salad, I call my accountant to let him know I'd like to visit the pub ("always clear it with him first" my friend told me although the reason was never clear).  Japanese Beatle-man is there and we laugh and cut up and he tells me I look like Liza Minnelli and that he went to her concert in Japan and wouldn't it have been funny if I had gone, too, a "mother-daughter" reunion.  We laugh again.

Then the phone rings.  My accountant's mistress/My "older sister" who was once a bit of a celebrity in her own right is now expecting her manager from decades back--a surprise visit--all clear from the phone call.  She quickly wipes down the counter, makes sure there's plenty of ice in the cooler and checks her make up.  I find this sweet.

The former manager enters with two other people and they quickly proceed to get drunk.  About an hour later when my "older sister" finally introduces her former manager to the former "Beatle" they beam and there is a flurry of "I thought that was you" and "may I shake your hand" and a whole series of other compliments flying past me.  Beatle-man leaves and my accountant and I are introduced to the three.  She says I work up north in the disaster area, blah blah blah, and the drunk former manager says, "I've been up there shooting a movie."
"Oh," I say.  "That's nice.  Thanks for visiting and for making a film."
"That belt conveyor you now have," he says, "it completely covers up the Miracle Pine."

This is true.  There is now a giant conveyor belt system in Rikuzentakata that hauls dirt from one side of the river to another so the mountain containing the earth can be leveled for residents waiting to rebuilt their homes.  The same earth is hauled into what was downtown where the city will raise the land by 11 meters for businesses to rebuild.  Evidently, (so sorry) this conveyor system "covers up the Miracle Pine", something the drunk manager at the end of the bar doesn't appreciate.  The horror.

"You can still see it up close, though.  There's a path leading right up to it," I say, trying not to sound defensive.
Now the other drunk man, a member of the former manager's entourage says, "You should have cut down that tree."

I smile.  I do not nod.  I call him a name I don't dare say out loud.
He goes on to talk about how the preservation of the Miracle Pine is "stupid" and "a waste of money" and "you could have spent that money on something else".  I now sort of smile but still don't nod.

Inwardly, I say, "But, (insert foul name here) we're not fixing up the city for you.  The needs of the city trump any (curse) project you might have.  I'm sorry you couldn't shoot the Miracle Pine the way you (curse) wanted but since reconstruction has nothing to do with you (foul name again) we don't care whether our projects get in the way of your (curse) movie."

Had he said this on a day I felt gentle and soft, fluffy forgiveness a given I would not have had the violent internal reaction I did not say out loud.  His audacity floored me.  Yes, you're drunk, you little (foul name).  I get that.  But, you're complaining about a conveyor system that hauls earth so people can have land to build upon getting in the way of your (curse) movie?  Who says this?  Who actually thinks prioritizing a (curse) movie makes sense?  Why would we prioritize the needs of a movie studio over our residents?  Seriously.

This sentiment can be heard more and more these days.  Crass statements about the "obvious" ineptitude of small town bureaucrats ("my colleagues you mean, you (foul name)") are thrown out at with far too much ease usually accompanied by alcohol.  Those of my colleagues who do openly dare to push back are now getting banned from further interviews with that station.

Recovery is about the residents.  More specifically, it's for the children.  I don't give a (curse elaborately) about how inconvenient it might be for you trying to shoot a movie even if you are trying to tell our story.  Your needs are really very irrelevant.  Deal with it.

I tell my accountant I'm leaving as I don't want to say anything that will hurt my "older sister" in her relationship with her manager, even if he is from several decades back.  "I don't trust myself not to snap back," I tell him.
"Yeah, sorry," he says.
"It's not your fault," I say.  "And, they're drunk, I know.  It's just wrong and they don't know what they're talking about.  It's offensive."
"Sorry," he says again.

I take my leave and decide if I ever see this director or his posse in town trying to film another movie I will make sure there's a mud puddle nearby that I, "oh, I'm so sorry" drive through accidentally.  Asshole.