The Reader's Eye on Television

Author

By Ollie

Publish Date

April 6, 2006

Paper tapestries printed with the oily ink and complicated characters of Japanese calligraphy flutter in a soft breeze. A warm wind crosses the sushi restaurant and delivers to me the subtle scent of ginger, tuna, and soy. Gentle smells, flute music, and low light all lend to a still atmosphere. Smiling waitresses round the tables delivering hospitality and water with soothing voices.

"HYEAH!" the kitchen erupts with cheer. One of the waitresses, smiling broader to mask her annoyance, rushes to the curtain at the far end of the room and vanishes through it. On the other side rises the waitress's voice in a bright tone with a chiding pace. She then reappears into the dining area, smiling again. She floats from table to table and when she gets to mine she asks, "Is there anything I can bring you?"

"Yes, I spilled my tea when the cooks yelled. Can I get another?"

"Of course, sir. We apologize," and I feel bad when she says it because she lowers her eyes in shame. The voices of a half-dozen men in loud celebration, "HYEAH!" breaks the serenity of the restaurant, and the server snaps her head rigid and looks toward the ornate drape separating us from the kitchen.

She runs through the tapestry. I'm familiar with the print on the kitchen curtain. It's a painting of a tall celestial woman with her black hair pulled into a tight queue. Her florid robes are covered in complex patterns and adorned with mysterious symbols. On tall wooden sandals a group of children, in robes that match the woman's, huddle against the matriarch figure and together they step through thick snow. She's a symbol of Japanese strength and perseverance of culture. On the other side of the ornamental drapery the waitress is chittering at the noisy cooks.

She pops through once more with a green ceramic pot of aromatic tea. The scene repeats itself, with the kitchen blowing up in loud voices and the woman rushing back to quiet them.

With my curiosity impelling me up and out of my seat I peek past the printed curtain. In the center of a pile of dirty steel pots sit four Asian men in white coats and paper hats, huddled around a 13" black Panasonic television set. On the screen is the score of a baseball game: Japan 6, Cuba 0, bottom of the 6th. And to one side stands an exasperated woman waiting to "Shhhhh!" the cooks on their next outburst.

WHAT I WILL AND WON'T WATCH THIS WEEK

Thursday, April 6