Mr. Hattori is having a ball

I’m intrigued by our neighbor to the north side of our property. His name is Mr. Hattori. His house, like Frog’s Glen, is newly built. Our two structures are in fact the only ones I can find in this valley that are less than 30 years old.

Mr. Hattori is I’d say mid to late seventies. He told us that his son “very kindly” built the house for him to retire in. The place is chunky—probably several bedrooms, plus plenty of up-to-date solar technology on the south-facing roof—so I’m thinking the real plan is for son and his family to eventually reside there once dad passes on.

Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Mr. Hattori even suggested to me this was the case. “I’m sure he and his wife are just waiting for me to shuffle on. They’re thinking, shouldn’t be long now,” he said with a baritone laugh that sounded like a guy half his age.

I don’t think Mr. Hattori is going anywhere soon either. He is sprightly and seems to be having a ball living on his own in his minted house. This is not a tired retiree—he speeds around the valley in his new Suzuki Tanto mini-van and never seems to stay in one place. He loves to fish and golf, so I can see why he picked here for his golden years—both activities are plentiful on this coastline.

I look up to Mr. Hattori as a role model of sorts. Like me, he is a transplant to this insular valley. And maybe because of that, he seems to go out of his way to involve himself in activities and socializing.

“He seems so plugged in here. I should do the same,” I’m always thinking. The farmers know his name and you can see they genuinely like him, “Hey, Hattori, how’re the lilies coming? Did you use the clamshells in the topsoil like I told ya?”

Each time we see each other, he smiles broadly.

Jack: Morning, Hattori-san!

Hattori: Why good morning, Jack-san! It’s an incredible day, isn’t it? They say it’ll be 28C by mid-day so I’m getting my wisteria and junipers whacked back while it’s still cool. It’s tough going these bushes!

J: I really like your garden lanterns. Are they solar?

H: Solar of course! I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Mr. Hattori has often said to me, “As neighbors, let’s be on the best of terms. It would be a shame not to.” It’s an odd statement, no? He’s said the same phrase to Toru several times too.

Let’s be on the best of terms…

Mr. Hattori tells us he is originally from Saitama Prefecture. For Japan, he’s kind of a loud, charismatic guy so I can imagine that before retirement his career could have been in sales or in some sort of management role. He is gregarious and clearly loves contact, but I sense also enjoys maintaining a bit of a buffer. Let’s just say, Mr. Hattori is always happy to have a laugh and to chime into whatever conversation is started by others. He doesn’t however ask many questions.

He really loves watching soccer and baseball on TV. I can hear the broadcasts crystal clear through our hedges—and that’s just fine.

My guess is that come July when we have our local matsuri festival, this will be the guy manning the beer booth, chatting up old and young alike and loving every minute of it. He’s that type.

The other weekend I was glad to see that he had a group of five or six visitors at his house. I’m going to assume they were family—maybe the son who built the home?—and they loudly enjoyed barbeque and beers at several wood tables he has in his large garden. I waved hello and noticed Mr. Hattori just beaming.

The next day the visitors were gone. Mr. Hattori was out front planting new Red Robin bushes. He said, “I’m fishing with friends this afternoon for skates on the beach near Nemoto Yacht Harbor—you know the spot? Can’t wait.”

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A quick note. From your comments, I know many of you are wondering about the daikon farmer. I think he has passed away, because we haven’t seen him since the day before the ambulance was here. There haven’t been any official announcements though…I’m not sure yet who to ask.

I’m holding out hope but.