Yesterday, I went to the welfare center near our house for a drawing lesson. As I have not done any drawing since high school, I was a little nervous.
A young female instructor greeted me with a big smile. The other students, all female, were already seated at the long wooden desk. I was the only male present, so maybe that's why the teacher smiled at me so happily.
Feeling shy, I sat beside my wife. The teacher explained the objective and asked the students to draw trees that expressed themselves. We began to draw, but I was at a loss not knowing what kind of tree represented me. I sketched roots and a trunk. I imagined those roots as all those who supported and shaped me: my God, my deceased parents, my wife, my adult children and my friends — the strong roots that have always been with me.
I thoughtlessly began to draw branches. I thought they could be my own career, my past experiences and the status that I gradually achieved.
I picked up a yellow crayon and drew some ripe persimmons. Suddenly, I conjured up the persimmon tree in our backyard when we lived in the country. The old tree against the autumn's crystal-clear sky was still vivid in my mind. Most leaves fallen, shiny yellowish fruit dangling on the branches might well tempt passersby to pluck them. As I drew I felt my mouth watering, remembering the sweet, soft and juicy taste.
What motivated me to draw the persimmon tree? In the cycle of nature, I am in the late autumn of my life. Then do I resemble the tree: the fresh green leaves having fallen, the yellow fruit remains? The ugly fragile black braches which are easily broken represent my aging body? I was plunged into sudden gloom. Unrealized, old age has crept up on me and when I wake up in the morning, my once-strong shoulders ache and my stiff knees creak. Then what are those ripe persimmons? Perhaps the fruit of my own developed virtues such as love, kindness and dedication to others. Thinking like that, I experienced a sudden, profound sense of guilt.
Am I without regrets? What paths have I pursued in life? Are my ripe persimmons really tasty enough for other people? Or are they so rotten that even wild crows disdain them? Identifying myself with each persimmon, I was ashamed thinking about my past stupidity. Each wrongdoing, serious or minor that I committed in the past came before my eyes one after another. Even without realizing it, I must have hurt a lot of people, who would have been embittered by my impudence and nastiness. My rudeness and selfishness would have left indelible scars on their hearts, because my persimmons were nothing more than filthy rotten fruit.
That being said, it is no use crying over spilt milk. If I had behaved so badly, I would deserve derision and blame, as the consequence of my own earlier life, a life that I made myself. Shame on me!
Still I may hope there are some ripe juicy persimmons on the tree which will please friends and former students. I wish they could smile whenever they are reminded of me just like they savor the sweet, juicy ripe persimmons.
I promised myself that, as a result of my efforts to live henceforth sincerely, the remaining fruits of my life yet un-ripened will be as sweet as those which I tasted back in my old house. Hopefully, my persimmon tree will be as brilliant as the clear blue sky until the end of my years.
Lee Eung-tae (eungtae@gmail.com) is a former high school teacher who taught English for 35 years.