Called to serve
I’m so excited! A few minutes ago, Saitoh ku-cho stopped his truck in front of our garden to speak. I smiled and asked what’s up.
Ku-cho: Good morning. I’m Saitoh ku-cho*!
Jack: Morning!
Ku: On the first Sunday of July, this area is having its annual weed cutting.
J: Oh, great! For the matsuri festival?
Ku: Yes, in preparation. Anyway, if you’re at all interested…in doing…that…in helping…
J: Absolutely. We’ll be there. This is cutting with those totally cool whacker things?
Ku: Yes. If you have one or even if you don’t, that’s fine. We’re meeting at the Community Center at 8:30AM. We get the road edges tidied up. It can be just you if you want—no need for both of you. Or both is fine too.
*Another tic. This guy keeps introducing himself as if we surely have forgotten his name and role here. C’mon pal, we moved into your valley six months ago.
Call me odd, but since hanging out here, I’ve dreamt of wielding one of those industrial strength whackers myself. Every person in this valley seems to own one.
(We also have an American friend on the other side of the peninsula. She has a high-end Japanese whacker that she calls her Therapist. It got me thinking.)
Come to think of it, the term “whacker” really does no justice to the Obliteration Machines here. First, in Japan no wimpy spinning of nylon lines occurs. I once asked someone in Japan what test fishing line his whacker uses and he looked at me like I was speaking Vulcan.
No, these are agricultural Cuisinarts with high-speed steel disc-blades that chew. See that contraption the nice lady is daintly holding above? That thing emulsifies trees. It pulps bamboo groves. You pour gasoline in, rip the chord, and well decimate. You know the accelerator grips on the handle bars of motorcycles? You get one of those too just in case you’d like to rev up through a few acres of thicket.
As for grass and weeds? Just show a Japanese whacker to a field of grass and the stalks faint.
Nope. No way I’m going to miss this event. I already put it into my calendar under WEED THRASH and have set a one-week reminder pop-up.
Ku-cho must be loving us by now. Don’t get me wrong—he isn’t enthralled by what amazing people we are or because he believes us to be positive cultural contributions to his village. No, in this geriatric valley, he sees us as heartbeats. I’m sure he’s thinking, “Holy crap. We now have two newcomers with systolic pressure readings under 200.”
I’ll report back after July 2.
Oh man, I have nightmares about those things. I wouldn't touch one if you paid me. I shake my head every time I see one. I call them "death blades". Have you seen the flamethrower weed killers? Literal tanks of gas loaded onto a cart so they can be wheeled around to unleash flames of death. Usually used on weeds growing in concreted areas.
That’s what weed whackers were when originally available over 40 years ago and they came with an even more impressive harness than you have shown.