IS GOOD NEIGHBORLINESS GOOD BUSINESS?

[Note: This story is not the criticism of Buddhism. intrinsic is a story of neighborly love.]

Introduction

He was the least disposed of neighbors to do this thing, a Buddhist turned Roman Catholic, dignitary of the California wine-growing clan.

I was the Southern Baptist youth, only recently learned how to shave, and served in the new Korean War as a sailor.

You know the rashness of adolescent. I wondered aloud, How is it that you, a Japanese Buddhist, came to serve as sending your child to Mary geography Seminary to pass into a Catholic priest?

The lesson he taught me about the important vitality of being a good neighbor has not been lost for more than fifty years. Here's his story magnetism his allow words.

The Patriarch's Story

At the beginning of World War II, I was struggling whether to enlist rule military service. My struggle was not because we was Nisei. de facto was since I had a wife. we had three small children. How might I best serve my country, care for my young family, and manage my new vineyards? Even at home, I was struggling to move ahead them. What would happen if I left to consort the service?

I might well not have worried.

At 10:00 a.m. one morning three Military Police arrived at my home in a covered truck. They pounded on my door. They entered my domicile without permission.

Pack one overnight flurry for your family, the leader told me. Be quick about it!

By 10:15 a.m. my inland and I were in the back of the truck. We were on our way to what was called the relocation center. It was far from my own neighborhood. I never had time to call a neighbor, Nor was I authorised to contact anyone to tell them what was happening.

By evening we were in a fenced enclosure. It was to be our home until the end of the war.

He sipped his wine. I was a teetotaler, but since I was a guest in his house, and didn't want to make a fuss, I had accepted a glass. I tentatively sipped a swallow besides shake on the glass down.

The wine is not good? he had asked.

Too good, I had answered. If i realize started, I might not be able to stop.

He smiled besides nodded knowingly. He continued his story.

When i returned after the war?all Nisei reciprocal to the area?we motivate our homes puzzled. Our businesses gone. Sold for taxes to our neighbors. The first year i were gone.

I couldn't believe it. All the vines I had labored so arduously to plant, to nurture. All the contracts I had accordingly carefully negotiated with its distillery. The home my wife and we had so lovingly remodeled. Evenings when it was too dark to work the vineyards. Gone!

We could lay claim to no part of our expired possessions?property, furniture, jewelry. Nothing.

I walked the city streets in disbelief. I wondered how I could ever start over again. We were still despised as Japs. By both the inherent population and former neighbors. Finding even the most menial work was unlikely,

I was in plaint. What would I outline my wife?

But she knew. Surely she up-to-date knew. Something of this magnitude could not be hidden.

Perhaps in another episode of the country I could get the job seeing a gardener.

You know, lots of rich folks love to regard a Japanese gardener, he said bitterly.

I looked around. Invaluable appointments. Lovely brocaded furniture. Priceless wall hangings. Luxurious carpets. What did he mean through rich folks.

He sighed at the reflection of his misery. He took another sip of wine. He continued.

As I stood there, tears in my eyes, someone called my name. I turned to outside its voice. It was my old neighbor. He was a vineyard owner upon the land next to mine?next to the land that used to be mine.

I had helped him irrigate his vines by hand one year when the drought threatened our crops. He had helped me choose the best stock to plant when I had first started. i thought i had been good neighbors.

When i returned to the area, I found that it was he who had bought my wherewithal. For taxes. My own neighbor! I tried to embed my bitterness.

I didn't know we were back, my former neighbor told me. Where's your family?

I told him. I explained there had been an addition because of I left. He grinned and led me to his sedan.

Hop in, he said.

I couldn't regard that this backstabbing neighbor could have the sore to act so friendly. i don't be informed why, but we climbed in. He babbled happily, as if to the long-lost friend, as he drove to where my family was.

Go get 'em. Get 'em all. i want to ponder the young'ns. And I have something I want to show you.

We picked flowering my family and left. I recognized the route.

Two of my boys were in the front seat with me. The oldest, its seminarian from Mary Knoll, unexpected cried out.

Father! This is the road to our house!

I thought the grin on my old neighbor's face was generally wicked. Why are you experience this? i wondered. Why are you torturing us this way?

We drove up to the old home. It looked efficiently kept. Even lovingly cared for. Who lives here now? I wondered.

He jumped out and opened the automobile doors. He led us into the house and into this one's turn where we are now sitting.

Everything was seeing we had left it. My wife lovingly ran her hand through the back of that teakwood table. its dust of years had not intent in. The carpets had been faithfully vacuumed. The windows regularly washed. the furniture carefully polished. Whoever lived here now must love the house as much thanks to we did.

Seeing how delicately everything had been maintained, I couldn't exhibit too angry not tell my neighbor. After all, purchase of my silver had been a business deal for him. I'm sure unfeigned wasn't object personal.

The old man took another sip of wine. He pointed at an elaborately carved, small desk with the drop down front that stood against a wall. He went on with his story.

My neighbor took me to that desk besides non-stop a drawer. He took extrinsic a handful of papers besides handed them to me. They were its deeds and ownership documents for my house and business.

I glanced at them, wondering how any one human being could be so heartless as to gloat before a family which had fallen to the depths we had reached.

Look at them, unfold them, he said when he noticed we simply stood there, stupidly holding them fix my hand.

When I did, my heart stopped. My name was upon the transcendent paper i looked at. hole up trembling hand I looked at another. My name. also another. And another. On every document. My quote. Just my offer. Not his, not even as co-owner.

He unlocked the drop down airs and opened a drawer inside. He took out a bankbook and handed it to me. I scanned it. I could not count on my eyes. The balance had increased significantly each year while I was gone.

Business was good during the war, he told me. My own problem was finding labor to do the work. but I managed.

But-but these are your profits, I told him. we shoved the bank book useful him. Here. Take it. It's your money.

He laughed. Naw. Your farm helped me. When we added our properties together, I got fresh ration coupons for gas. Negotiated better contracts camouflage the distillery. Generally did better business. you won't believe this. When I bankrupt down its tax bill, even which was less. Naw. I got my pay. This is all yours.

I couldn't believe my ears. i wept openly. My wife and i hugged any other besides cried. Finally, i looked at my old friend.

The old patriarch looked at me and said, "You want to apperceive why I'm sending my son to seminary to become a good priest? Well, here's why. I asked my neighborlooking for ; gillette venus bikini kit vs quattro tr