A Meeting Place For Everyone That Loves Horror Movies And Halloween Topics
My Mother's Father
My mother's father was a samurai and a Renaissance Man: as a samurai, he knew how to paint, did caligraphy, had an extensive Bonsai collection (real trees, trained into miniature), loved horticulture and was the Chief of Police in his providence, a title usually given to men of high social status. My mother painted such a loving picture of my grandfather that I wish he were still alive because we have much in common and I think I would have never gotten tired of listening to him talk.
I met my grandfather once when I was 4 years old and after he was dead. I went to his funeral--without leaving my house. My mother had to travel many miles and didn't want to stress out a 4 year old--as well as try to entertain one during a funeral so she left me with a best friend for a couple of days. When she came back home, I described my grandfather's funeral exactly and told her that I was there, watching the procession of people walking uphill towards my grandfather's house to pay their last respects. I even saw my grandfather's coffin displayed in his antechamber with a large picture of him on the wall and flowers all around. The flowers were made of white paper; white being a death color in Japan and some countries, same as the color black for Americans and English people.
When my grandfather was alive, he had an extensive collection of Masamun'e swords (made during the 1300's and considered the best swordsmith in the world), encased in glass cases because there was an urban legend that Masamun'e had imprisoned destructive souls in the blades. That was why his swords were so powerful and could kill so many enemies. My mother told me that samurais were taught since young, how to handle such swords and over-power the spirits' souls. "Only samurais can handle a true Masamun'e sword," my mother told me. And she explained an incident that happened when she was very young:
A very prosperous neighbor had accepted an invitation to come over to my grandfather's house for one of his soire'es and after dinner, the men had retired to the library to talk bull, drink some brandy, and smoke cigarettes. My grandfather kept his sword collections in his library so that was a center of talk and envy. The neighbor had always wanted swords in his household but since they were only granted to samurais, he was not allowed to have any. He requested that my grandfather bring out one of the swords and show the beautiful patterns on the blade so my grandfather did, then put the sword on a table so he could put it back into the case. Suddenly the neighbor grabbed the sword, bared his teeth in a snarl, and started to hack everything that was in his path. My mother was hiding and peeping from the library door and remembered the look of horror in the man's eyes as well as the color completely draining out of his face as he crazily swung the sword around the room, causing much damage. My grandfather finally wrestled it away from the neighbor, said a prayer over the sword, put it back into it's scabbard, and then back behind the case.
The neighbor apologized profusely for the incident and swore to replace all that was damaged. He also swore that he didn't know what had possessed him to do such a crazy act. My grandfather told him that Masamun'e had made the best swords in Japan but some of his swords carried evil souls and that only a holy man or a true samurai could tame the swords through many years of training of the secret art of Bushido and that was why only the samurai are able to have swords in their possession.
I met my grandfather once when I was 4 years old and after he was dead. I went to his funeral--without leaving my house. My mother had to travel many miles and didn't want to stress out a 4 year old--as well as try to entertain one during a funeral so she left me with a best friend for a couple of days. When she came back home, I described my grandfather's funeral exactly and told her that I was there, watching the procession of people walking uphill towards my grandfather's house to pay their last respects. I even saw my grandfather's coffin displayed in his antechamber with a large picture of him on the wall and flowers all around. The flowers were made of white paper; white being a death color in Japan and some countries, same as the color black for Americans and English people.
When my grandfather was alive, he had an extensive collection of Masamun'e swords (made during the 1300's and considered the best swordsmith in the world), encased in glass cases because there was an urban legend that Masamun'e had imprisoned destructive souls in the blades. That was why his swords were so powerful and could kill so many enemies. My mother told me that samurais were taught since young, how to handle such swords and over-power the spirits' souls. "Only samurais can handle a true Masamun'e sword," my mother told me. And she explained an incident that happened when she was very young:
A very prosperous neighbor had accepted an invitation to come over to my grandfather's house for one of his soire'es and after dinner, the men had retired to the library to talk bull, drink some brandy, and smoke cigarettes. My grandfather kept his sword collections in his library so that was a center of talk and envy. The neighbor had always wanted swords in his household but since they were only granted to samurais, he was not allowed to have any. He requested that my grandfather bring out one of the swords and show the beautiful patterns on the blade so my grandfather did, then put the sword on a table so he could put it back into the case. Suddenly the neighbor grabbed the sword, bared his teeth in a snarl, and started to hack everything that was in his path. My mother was hiding and peeping from the library door and remembered the look of horror in the man's eyes as well as the color completely draining out of his face as he crazily swung the sword around the room, causing much damage. My grandfather finally wrestled it away from the neighbor, said a prayer over the sword, put it back into it's scabbard, and then back behind the case.
The neighbor apologized profusely for the incident and swore to replace all that was damaged. He also swore that he didn't know what had possessed him to do such a crazy act. My grandfather told him that Masamun'e had made the best swords in Japan but some of his swords carried evil souls and that only a holy man or a true samurai could tame the swords through many years of training of the secret art of Bushido and that was why only the samurai are able to have swords in their possession.
Add a Comment
-
Comment by Jersey Girl on June 26, 2009 at 6:19pm -
Fascinating my friend, you have a very strong positive heritage.
Thank you for sharing this with us.
-
Comment by Morticia on June 24, 2009 at 6:32am - WOW! That was fantastic! I love the Samurai.I have always admired them and their way of life! Thank you Obak'e!
-
Comment by dig-me-up on June 21, 2009 at 5:11pm
-
It sounds like you and your family have lived very rich and interesting lives. Bits of stories of possessed blades and other similar things have made their way into American stories. And I'm sure I've heard the name Masamun'e in a story somewhere.
-
Comment by Headless Horseman on June 20, 2009 at 8:23pm - Very interesting and educational. I have always admired Japanese swords and feel they are the best. Thanks for sharing.:)
About
Badge
© 2009 Created by dig-me-up on Ning. Create a Ning Network!
You need to be a member of Halloween Horrors to add comments!
Join this Ning Network