My Grandfather in the Photograph

Ever since I was born, the back right side of my head has been flat, as if it had been pressed down repeatedly.
No matter how carefully my mother placed my head on the pillow, I would always end up sleeping facing to the right.
Seeing this, my father remarked,
“It’s funny how you inherit the strangest things.”
That was because my grandfather had the exact same head shape.

As I grew up, I came to resemble my grandfather more and more.
My father did not have a very good relationship with him, so it seems he was not happy about this.
However, I became deeply interested in the grandfather I had never met.

“Apparently, he was exceptionally brilliant.”
My grandfather was born as the eldest son of a family of some standing, with ancestors who were samurai in Gunma.
It is said that at school, people would say, “This boy will get into Tokyo University.”

However, he did not get along with his stepmother and left home.
His father (my great-grandfather) ordered him, “That is an act of disinheritance! Go and have your name removed from the family register!”
When the family rushed to the municipal office, they found his name had already been removed, so it seems it was a clean break.

I heard from my father that my grandfather went to Tokyo and worked in the performing arts.
He associated with famous stage actors and performed music himself, playing the violin and harmonica he had taught himself, appearing on stages in Asakusa and Fukagawa.
He was even a “master” of the biwa, so he was quite serious about it.
Yet, my grandfather walked away from that world without a second thought.
A person with strong decisiveness who moved forward without hesitation emerges.

When my father showed interest in the entertainment industry, I can imagine that my grandfather’s strong opposition came from knowing that it was not a way to make a living.
My grandfather’s clumsy affection, which he could only express through opposition, never reached my father, and it only worsened their relationship.
That must be the reason why my father did not like to talk about him.

In reality, you cannot make a living in the arts.
My grandfather opened a barbershop—I don’t know where he learned the trade—in Meguro, where my grandmother’s family lived.
Since he had employees, it must have been reasonably successful.
But the times were leading Japan toward war.

Despite having no formal education, my grandfather was somehow assigned to a place in the mainland that suffered little damage.
This also shows his skill in navigating the world.
After the war, while many people were caught trying to buy black-market rice, my grandfather reportedly brought back plenty.
According to him,
“If you act with confidence, you won’t get caught.”
That was all there was to it.

That talent for lying with “confidence” also helped him find a job after the war.
My grandfather joined the company that would become Tokyo Electric Power.
Of course, since he had virtually no educational background, there is no doubt he “falsified” his credentials, a topic of much discussion today.
However, once he was in, he worked with such a sharp mind that no one could complain, and he climbed the career ladder.

The person who acted as the matchmaker for my parents was someone my father looked up to like an older brother, and who had been my grandfather’s subordinate.
I asked that person about my grandfather, whom my father was reluctant to talk about.
“I have never seen a man as intelligent as him.”
That was his first remark.
He said he was a man who could apply small bits of knowledge to understand everything.

A former entertainer and barber had joined Tokyo Electric Power.
Naturally, he had no specialized training.
Yet, after just a little explanation, he would say,
“Ah, I understand,”
and would set to work and handle it brilliantly.

“Hear one, know ten.”
That saying seemed to apply perfectly to him.
He had the ability to see through people’s feelings and was a conversationalist who never let people get bored.

On top of that, he never missed a drink—in fact, he drank too much.
He didn’t gamble, but when he married my grandmother, he showed her a photo of a child he had with someone else and said,
“This is my child.”
His relationships with women were quite flamboyant, so it is no wonder he had a bad reputation with my grandmother’s family.

I don’t know how such a playboy saved the money, but my grandfather bought land on Imoarai-zaka in Roppongi and had a shrine carpenter build him a house.
This was the house where I was born and lived until I was six, and it had family crests on the snow-viewing shoji screens.
At the time, I only thought,
“Why are there pictures drawn on them?”
but now I feel he was a “stylish” man who, despite running away from home, took pride in his family lineage.

Building a house in Roppongi is a major undertaking.
My grandmother’s family reportedly came to visit for the housewarming, saying they had misjudged him.
At that time, my grandfather shouted,
“There is no entrance for the likes of you to come through. Wash your feet with a rag and come in from the back!”
My father, who did not like my grandfather, told me that those words resonated with him.

However, my grandfather could not live in his prized house for long.
Whether it was because of the alcohol, he developed cancer.
By the time he went to the hospital, they said it was impossible to tell where it had started.
Even so, he did not stop drinking.
Eventually, his body could no longer accept it, and he must have prepared himself.

“This is the end.”
He called a photographer he knew, put on a mourning suit, and had a photo taken to be used as his “funeral portrait.”
Not long after that, he passed away.
His last words were about how he had “failed” in raising my father.
My father said that rather than sadness, he felt more like he had “won.”
He said he felt he had finally gained his freedom.
But he also said he hadn’t really won.
The funeral procession stretched from Imoarai-zaka to the intersection, with strangers even lining up to pay their respects.
When my father saw that line, he said he truly felt he could never measure up to him.

My father did not like to talk about my grandfather while he was alive, and I had never even seen a photograph of him.
But, as it turned out, he hadn’t thrown them away.

When my younger sister was cleaning her room on the second floor, she came downstairs laughing.
“Don’t you think this looks like you, brother?”
It was a photo of him smiling while looking at a bonsai tree he had pruned on the veranda.
I couldn’t help but laugh, thinking, “It really does look like me.”

For about ten years before he died, my father also grew plants in a small garden and painted pictures.
He insisted, “I don’t look like him,” but since they were father and son, it was natural for them to have similarities, and they both shared a love for plants in their later years.

Another photo my sister found was of my grandfather in his youth, wearing a kimono and holding a biwa.
He looked like my father, but he also looked like me.
“You’re similar in personality and the way you talk. You are... well, if he were alive, I’m sure he would have doted on a grandson who looked so much like him.”
It seems I didn’t inherit his brains, but despite never meeting him, I feel a sense of closeness to him.

I touch the right side of my head, where it feels like a piece is missing.
Even though he is not here, he is within me.
I felt as though I could feel not only my grandfather's hand, but my father's as well.

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