A Little Further Up the Lighthouse (July Essay ③)

For some reason, I clearly remember my father, when he was serving as the PTA president at my junior high school, saying in his graduation speech, 'It is said that it takes twice your age to understand a single story. Therefore, I believe you will understand the story I am about to tell when you reach the age of 30.'
Shortly before I entered junior high school, my father ruptured his Achilles tendon during kendo practice. Having to live on crutches for a while, he stood out strangely at the parent-teacher meeting held right after I started school, began participating as a PTA officer, and before I knew it, he had been appointed as the next PTA president. Normally, the term is one year, but since he took office when I was in my second year of junior high, he ended up serving for another year. By the way, the story at the beginning was from when I was in my second year of junior high, and I don't really remember what my father talked about when I was the one graduating.

I developed alopecia areata after the summer break of my first year of junior high school. The hair loss wouldn't stop, so on the day before winter break ended, I shaved off all my hair with clippers, becoming a 13-year-old skinhead without eyebrows. Because of that, I was already standing out at school, and with my father adding the attribute of PTA president, I remember feeling embarrassed by the curious stares from my classmates during important ceremonies.
I sometimes wonder if my father's nature, which led him to take on a thankless role like PTA president, was inherited from my grandfather, who was pushed around by the troubles of his relatives. When I was 10, my grandfather passed away. At the funeral, my father reminisced, saying, 'Grandpa had a hard time because his brothers were in debt and such.'
Nearly ten years later, at my grandmother's funeral, I saw the family grave for the first time. In front of the grave, my uncle told me, 'It seems your great-grandfather ran away with the family money and eloped with a young lady from a good family.' I thought that perhaps we were all now paying the price for the 'mess' my great-grandfather had made. As an aside, my grandfather hated monks so much that he left a will saying, 'Don't call a monk' to his own funeral. Since the first funeral I ever attended was my grandfather's, I only learned when another relative passed away that sutras are something read at funerals. During my adolescence, I resented that perhaps I had been made to shave my head as punishment for not calling a monk to his funeral.

I think developing alopecia during my first year of junior high, a time when I was particularly self-conscious about my appearance, had a major impact on the formation of my personality. Exposed to the eyes of those who mocked me and the malice of those who whispered insults, my already twisted personality became even more warped. Eventually, I even thought, when I saw people going around telling others 'don't worry about it,' 'Why do I have to cooperate with you to boost your own likability?'
As a result of coming to dislike interacting with people, the world of books was where I escaped to.

I read my fair share of novels, but the essays that had a major influence on me during my student days were those by Ken Washizaki, Gen Hoshino, and Masayasu Wakabayashi. Recently, for the first time since my student days, I reread those essays. First of all, the experience of being able to immediately listen to the songs mentioned in the essays on a subscription service was fresh and interesting. Since I wasn't subscribed to such services back then, being able to enjoy the music along with the episodes was a new discovery. Furthermore, having gone through college and entered the workforce, my range of activities has expanded, so I can now visualize the locations and the image of the towns where these people I admire wrote their songs or jokes, and understand the spatial relationships of the places they remember.
Also, while reading, I noticed certain writing habits I hadn't been aware of before. Comparing them to the writing I did when I first started writing essays, I realized that I had been trying hard to imitate these people's writing back then, and I felt a little embarrassed.
Rereading the essays I had read, I strongly felt that the relationships formed through music, comedians, radio, events, and so on, were what had gained them their readers. I myself had seen some of their activities and picked up their essays because I wanted to know more about them. I thought that it is precisely in the relationships built higher through various activities that the interest in their writing resides.
I started writing essays to practice and build a habit of writing in order to write novels. Since I haven't published any novels and haven't done any notable activities, I was half-convinced and half-depressed that it was no wonder I couldn't gain readers.

Reading the books I encountered from junior high through the beginning of college again, I frequently felt the changes between my past self and my current self.
It's embarrassing to say it myself, but I think my inner self has changed quite a bit over the last five years. I used to deny both myself and others with a flashy self-consciousness, but now I affirm myself, and I want to pursue the things I like and express myself regardless of what others think. So now, I think I am living more positively than before, while keeping my self-consciousness in check.
I thought that if I stopped being shy, I wouldn't be able to write essays anymore, but surprisingly, I can still write what I want to write, and having more close friends actually leads to interesting events. I also felt that if negative energy and negative thoughts disappeared, I wouldn't be able to write anything, but it turned out that people I dislike and unpleasant events don't disappear that easily.
While watching a concert of my favorite artist at a large venue, thoughts of unfinished work documents suddenly popped into my head, and I was overcome with anxiety. New negative energy also comes along.
However, there are things I've become okay with. Now, my negative feelings about having become a skinhead due to alopecia areata have decreased to the point where I just think, 'I can't be a prankster on a hidden camera show because it's too obvious even with an earpiece.'

One day, after various changes, thinking that my shyness might have finally been cured, it was suggested that we go to an exhibition by someone who makes accessories, an acquaintance of a friend. I had assumed we were going to a gallery-like place, but I found out just before that it was being held inside a bar in a deep part of Shinjuku, and I braced myself.
The interior of the shop, located in the back of a multi-tenant building, was dimly lit, illuminated only by candlelight. The shop was so small that it would be full with five or six people, and I could feel the master at the counter keeping a sharp eye on everything in the shop. Imagining the time that liquor lovers must have spent there over the years, and having lost my personal space, I was completely overwhelmed.
A while after I sat down, the acquaintance and their acquaintance started talking about a mutual friend. Naturally, knowing absolutely nothing about that friend, I felt completely at a loss at that moment. I drank the coffee I had ordered in gulps, as if to escape into its taste. It was the most delicious coffee I had ever had, but I couldn't tell the master in front of me that it was delicious, nor could I ask where the beans were from, and with the acquaintance continuing their conversation as background music, I was painfully reminded that I am still shy. The carefully dripped, flavorful coffee didn't have much bitterness, but nothing felt as bitter as my mood at that time.

Come to think of it, the biggest thing the essays I've read so far have taught me is that 'worries last forever.' Please don't misunderstand; that is not the same as despair. The despair that people similar to me have encountered is something I will eventually encounter too. I see them encountering new worries in new essays. Just knowing that worries will continue to arise in the future acts like a gymnastics mat for me.
In one of Wakabayashi's essays, he wrote about how he felt ashamed somewhere in his heart for teaching his juniors how to live as working adults when he himself hadn't been able to do so when he was young. I thought, thank you for writing that while enduring the shame. That's because essays were exactly the place where I could gain such teachings. Because the author wrote about what they couldn't do in their essays, I am who I am today. If I hadn't known, I, who have a similar nature, would likely have grown into an adult while still being just as incapable.

This has become long, but let me return to the story of my father who became the PTA president. Near the time I was graduating from junior high, a teacher told me, 'It seems your father became a PTA president who could be involved in the school because he was worried about you after you developed alopecia.' Being in the peak of my adolescence, I thought it was none of his business and that it was too late to tell me... But I also thought, better late than never, that I could have been saved by the existence of someone trying to do something.
Nearly 11 years have passed since my father's story, and I, who was 14, will be 25 the day after tomorrow. Three more years. Will I understand the meaning of what my father was talking about?

I have looked back on half of my life at great length up to this point. There are likely many parts that didn't get across, but it is only natural that they wouldn't. After all, it is said that it takes twice one's age to understand a story.