Galapagos Middle-Aged Man 13: The Man Who Sheds His Title
When you go into the mountains, strange things happen.
During a break, a conversation starts with someone who happens to sit next to you.
"How far are you going today?"
"Where did you come from?"
It's just that kind of trivial conversation.
It might be ten minutes.
It might be thirty minutes.
Once you descend the mountain, you will likely never meet again.
Even so, I remember that person strangely well.
It's the same at an izakaya.
At a counter while traveling.
A conversation sparks with the person sitting next to you.
"Where are you from?"
"Is this your first time at this shop?"
Before I know it, the drinks are flowing.
Of course, sometimes I step on a landmine.
"Ah, shoot."
I sometimes think.
It's the same at a karaoke snack bar.
"This song brings back memories, doesn't it?"
The conversation started with a single remark, and before I knew it, it was closing time.
This, too, is stepping on a landmine once in a while.
Life is not that easy.
Aijiro asked.
"Editor-in-chief, you're not good with people, are you?"
"I'm not."
"You don't join groups either."
"I don't."
"And you hate flocking together."
"I do."
"But you do talk to people you don't know."
"I do."
"That's a contradiction."
I thought for a moment.
"That might be true."
Aijiro continued.
"By the way, Editor-in-chief."
"What is it?"
"Why don't you talk about your work?"
It is true that I hardly ever mention it.
"I am an editor-in-chief."
"I make magazines."
I almost never say things like that.
It is not that I am trying to be pretentious.
It is not much of a title, anyway.
It is just that I do it instinctively.
"I suppose I want to take off my armor."
That is what I think.
I am not an editor-in-chief.
I am not an interviewer.
Just a climber.
Just a traveler.
Just a customer at an izakaya.
That way, the other person can also be themselves.
And I can be myself, too.
Aijiro said quietly.
"That is why you, as an editor-in-chief, like listening to people's stories, isn't it?"
I laughed.
"Rather than listening, I am being allowed to hear them."
I have been working in editing for over forty years.
I have met so many people.
Both those with titles.
And those without.
Yet, the ones who remain in my memory even now are people I spoke with for only ten minutes in a mountain hut, or someone who happened to sit next to me at a tavern while traveling.
I don't even know their names.
I don't know their contact information either.
I may never see them again for the rest of my life.
Even so, strangely, I never forget them.
Encounters with people are not about the duration.
Nor are they about titles.
I believe it is the atmosphere that can only be created at that time, in that place.
That is why I love the phrase 'ichigo ichie'—once-in-a-lifetime encounter.
Sometimes I step on landmines, too.
But that, too, is a once-in-a-lifetime encounter.
There are things that can only be said because we are middle-aged men who have shed our titles.
I want to continue to cherish such encounters from here on out.
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