The Cricket
Chapter 3: The Shortcut
Jacob and his grandpa made their way further down Fillmore Street, known as Lower Pacific Heights. Jacob looked up from counting the gum blemishes on the sparkling sidewalk and noticed his grandpa was gone. He did a 360-degree spin and realized he was alone. “Grandpa? Grandpa, where are you?”
“Over here!” Jacob heard his grandpa's voice coming from a dark alley to his left. “Let me show you a shortcut, Jacob.”
Jacob entered the dark alley. It was unlike any alley he had entered before. It didn't smell like garbage at all. It smelled of vanilla like a bakery and beautiful piano music could be heard from all directions. On the ground to the right, running along the corridor, there was a thin glass cable emanating a soft pink light acting as a beacon into the darkness. “Where are we, Grandpa?” asked Jacob with both fascination and a hint of fear in his voice aware of the fact that this darkness was unknown.
Grandpa shifted the bag of wine to his other hand and grabbed Jacob's arm, “Just a little further.”
They slowly moved forward, following the pink light on the ground; a little to the left, a little to the right. The dark passage gradually turned a little less dark as it curved to reveal a very large gate at the end. The gate was ten feet tall, black, and had the name 'CRENSHAW' embossed in copper at its crown.
Jacob looked up at his grandpa for some kind of reassurance. Grandpa turned and winked at Jacob. As they moved forward, Jacob could make out a wooden box attached to the right side of the gate, a lighted lantern enclosed in the box gave off a soft orange glow. The piano music had been replaced by the sounds of birds chirping on the other side of the gate.
Jacob turned and looked to the left of the gate and quickly grabbed onto his grandpa. “Whoa, Grandpa!” He saw a giant wood statue of a dragon protruding from the wall in a twisted ferocious pose as if it was guarding the massive gate. Gold leaflet in varied states of decay hung off the dragon's head giving it a very lifelike and creepy appearance.
Grandpa smiled at Jacob, reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. The sound of dangling keys echoed down the narrow enclosure they had just traversed through.
“Keys?” said Jacob in a tone that seemed to question the soundness of finding out what was on the other side of the gate.
Grandpa jingled the keys with one hand until he found the key he needed. The key was longer than a normal key and was dark blue. He reached into the lantern box and maneuvered the long key into a designated hole on the side of the lantern. The gate slowly opened without making a sound as if all friction was absent. They both stood at the opened gate and gazed at the scene in front of them as they felt a cool breeze that was very pleasant.
There was so much for Jacob to take in at once. To the left was a Japanese style house with a wrap-around porch. It was mostly dark on the porch except for soft orange light passing through paper windows (shoji). He heard the sound of water lapping against rocks, while frogs were croaking in periodic harmony. A small brook ran past their feet and wrapped around a large wooden deck that set a little lower than the house. The birds were still chirping. In the foreground and to the right were life-like painted backdrops or murals of wetland reeds, with the moon shimmering off the water--it was a house by a lake.
Jacob looked up and saw stars in the sky. Somehow, it was night time. “Where did the sun go, Grandpa?”
“It didn't go anywhere. This is an atrium.”
“A what?”
“An atrium is a large open space located within a building. This atrium depicts the night.”
Jacob felt very comfortable; he thought it was similar to the feeling he had in synagogue earlier in the day. It was dark in a pleasant way and all the sounds and visuals gave him the feeling he was in a movie or a story someone else was telling. The birds chirping at night were the only thing out of place.
Jacob and Grandpa walked across some rocks, careful not to fall into the brook, up some steps, and across the wide deck. In the middle of the deck was a painter's easel with a soft light shining down on a finished painting. The painting depicted an up-scale veranda overlooking a paseo, bordering a beautiful park in some European city. The paseo was full of people, young, old, smiling, happy, sad, and purposeful, walking past. The point of view of the painting was that of the person watching this beautiful spring setting from the patio of the veranda. But on closer viewing of the reflection in a patio window on the far side of the veranda, a skewed artistic perspective was revealed. The reflection showed a sculptured clay head sitting on the table being sculpted by a headless figure. The figure was sculpting his own head viewing the paseo.
Jacob stared up at the painting. “How do you like it?” asked Grandpa.
“It's nice.”
Grandpa pointed to the window in the painting. “Notice the reflection?”
Jacob stared at the painting and felt a sense of complexity that he was forced to reconcile with his earlier look at the painting. It made him feel older. “Yeah, I see it.”
“Jacob, over here.” Grandpa walked softly, in an almost sneaky manner, across the deck up some steps and onto the porch that surrounded the Japanese house. Jacob quickly caught up to him. Grandpa took a small envelope out of his pocket, placed it in the bag with the wine he had bought and knelt down to place it on the porch.
Jacob felt the presence of someone in the darkest corner of the porch. The hair on his arms stood erect. “Grandpa!” Jacob yelped in fright. His eyes adjusted enough to make out a human figure sitting in a rocking chair.
A scratchy, older woman's voice floated out of the darkness. “Hello, Peter. So glad you could stop by today.”
“Hello, Barbara. I brought my grandson with me.”
“Jacob, this is Mrs. Crenshaw.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jacob replied, still trying to adjust his composure and get his heartbeat back to normal.
“Nice to meet you, Jacob. Sorry if I startled you. How do you like my lake, young man?”
Jacob smiled, “I...I like it.”
“I see your 'Modern Man' painting is finished,” said Grandpa.
“Yes, yes. It took two years. I get slower and slower, though.”
“But your quality improves with time,” said Grandpa.
Grandpa and Mrs. Crenshaw chatted for a few minutes while Jacob talked to a couple small birds that flew around a small cage, hanging on the porch. “Hey, little birdy, who's your friend?” Jacob asked softly. He put his finger through the cage bars. One of the birds landed on his finger and then quickly flew back to its partner. The two birds sang a song in unison in quick beautiful bird tones. Jacob thought how nice it would've been to let the birds fly free in the atrium.
“Would you boys like something to eat?” Mrs. Crenshaw asked. “I could whip up some fried rice with those fermented pickles you like, Peter.”
“Oh, that sounds tempting. But we'll have to take a rain check. We're heading to Yumiko's studio.”
“Maybe another time then. Before you boys go, I have something for you, Jacob.” With one strong rock of the chair, Mrs. Crenshaw propelled herself forward and into an upright position.
“I still got moves,” she said with a wink to Jacob, who smiled in response.
Grandpa grabbed her arm and helped her shuttle across the porch and let her slide open the Japanese door.
Jacob watched her enter her home and walk across the tatami mats. She was surrounded by a bit more light which enabled Jacob to get a better view of her appearance. He noticed she had white hair and was quite beautiful considering his assumption that she was very old.
When she returned to the porch, she carried a shiny silver dollar. “Here you go, Jacob. Buy yourself some candy in the Japantown mall.”
Jacob looked at his grandpa for the expected nod of approval, which came immediately.
“Thank you, ma'am.”
Both Jacob and Grandpa said goodbye to Mrs. Crenshaw and made their way down the stairs and across the wooden deck. Their eyes had
long adjusted to the darkness and they easily descended the other set of stairs just passing the lighted easel. Jacob turned to wave to Mrs. Crenshaw and then he viewed the moon one more time. He noticed that from his present angle the moon appeared as if it had risen dramatically in the night sky. At the bottom of the stairs was a narrow path that disappeared behind two murals representing the far side of the lake. There was just enough light to make out the shiny black pebbles that made up the path. Jacob wasn't worried about what lay ahead in the darkness. He had faith in his grandpa and he sensed that whoever had built this atrium had a good heart.
“What's ahead, Grandpa?” Jacob said with a slight giggle of anticipation.
Grandpa smiled. They walked through the dark passage that separated the two murals. Then they came upon large patches of white bamboo on both sides of the graveled path.
“I've never seen white bamboo. Is it real?”
“It's meant to be viewed that way,” said Grandpa.
They both continued on the path as it bent left and slowly revealed a soft blue light illuminating something large in the distance.
“Wow! That's a big man, Grandpa.”
“Yes, it is, Jacob. It's a Buddha.”
It was a statue of a seated Buddha, made of stone, and sat ten feet high.
“What does it mean?” Jacob asked as he thought to himself that the man looked very relaxed.
“Well, this is a seated Buddha with the right hand raised and facing outwards. The raised right hand symbolically represents a shield. It gives protection and the feeling of safety.”
“He's doing a good job, Grandpa. I don't feel afraid.”
“Yes, he is.”
“What should we do?” said Jacob.
“Well, nothing. That's the hard part.”
They both looked up at the Buddha for a while and said nothing. At this moment, Jacob noticed he didn't feel young and his grandpa did not seem old. After a few minutes, they turned and continued down the dark path. A tall black gate that was identical to the one they had entered earlier appeared in front of them.
“Grandpa, is that the same gate we started at?”
“No, but it certainly looks like it.”
They opened the gate to the same piano music they heard earlier and walked down a similar dark corridor illuminated by a pink glass cable, through the darkness and eventually towards the bright light of day.
How odd, Jacob thought; the beginning of the adventure was identical to the end of the adventure.
They descended down some steps, onto a small park which was unrecognizable to Jacob but had all the signs of being part of Japantown. Jacob had to adjust his eyes to the light that was overwhelming. But he was also aware of another adjustment.
“Take a moment, Jacob, to adjust your state,” said Grandpa.
“My what?”
“State. When we experience extreme newness, we are affected psychologically. It takes some time to integrate what we have seen with the rest of the world we know.”
“Grandpa, who built that...that?”
“The word you're looking for is 'performance garden'. The widow's husband, Joseph Crenshaw, built it. He was a renowned landscape architect before he passed away a few years ago. Mrs. Crenshaw suffers from a rare disease that made her extremely photosensitive to many forms of light. So he built her that beautiful dark place she could enjoy anytime. They were both great artists and very much in love.”
As Jacob's eyes adjusted to the light, he thought about the shortcut, Mrs. Crenshaw, and how much he loved the sun.
“Grandpa?”
“Yes, Jacob?” Grandpa reached down and picked a daisy from the ground and placed it into his eye-glass case.
“That was fun.”
Grandpa smiled at Jacob.
Grandpa, aware of being in Japantown (Nihon Machi), bowed to an older couple sitting under a large birch tree. They smiled with intensity and held it for an extra moment, bowed in return, and looked admiringly at Jacob and then back at Grandpa.
“Konichiwa (hello),” said Grandpa.
“Konichiwa,” replied the old man.
Jacob followed politely with, “Konichiwa.” He was surprised that he knew how to bow.
“Konichiwa.” replied both the man and the woman with a laugh of respect for the young man's good manners.
Jacob and his grandpa walked out of the park and crossed the street.
“We're here, Jacob. The pottery studio.”
In front of Jacob and Grandpa was a large Japanese-style building with thatched roofs as seen in many Samurai movies. Two big opaque doors centered the building giving it an appearance of a large community hall. Above the entranceway was a sign that read, in Japanese and English, “Japanese Fine Pottery, Classes Available.” A window to the left of the entrance had a great amount of light and shadows being cast against it suggesting much activity within.
Jacob and Grandpa walked up some half-dozen old wooden steps and entered the studio.