This picture on my wall

About two weeks ago, I decided to take advantage of the recent run-up in gold and silver prices to sell some of my collection.

I had stumbled across the Ithaca coin shop a couple months ago, and had gotten to know the dealer, Harold, pretty well. Even when I wasn't interested in buying and selling coins, I would sometimes stop by and, in Harold's words, take advantage of the barbershop talk. While there, I found this picture of Bobby Kennedy in a black and gold frame.

Harold told me that the picture belonged to a woman who had hit hard times - her husband was unemployed and suffering from Parkinson's Disease - and had asked Harold to help her sell some items for cash. Among them was this picture of Bobby Kennedy in a black and gold frame.

I have a vague recollection of a movie or a book - I'm not sure which - in which a character is talking to another about doing the right thing. The dialogue goes something like this:

All across this country there are people living in godforsaken shacks and have known seven generations of nothing. And yet, these people have pictures of Jack and Bobby Kennedy on their walls. You need to be loyal to whatever keeps those pictures on those walls.

I bought it for $20. Now it hangs on a wall in my house.

It reminds me of two other pictures I have - both of my grandfather.



In one, he is photographed in front of a giant statue of the Buddha with Kyoshi Takahama, one of the leading haiku poets of the 20th century and my grandfather's teacher. Had things gone differently, my grandfather might have gone back to Japan to take over the magazine Takahama-sama edited. As it turned out, my grandfather led his own haiku group well into his eighties. He would often take them on long trips into the desert in his Cadillac, which never failed to inspire his work.



The second picture is of my grandfather and many other Japanese men in an undisclosed location in Arizona. Shortly after Pearl Harbor, the FBI rounded up a number of Japanese-Americand leaders. I believe my grandfather was picked up because he was a prominent farmer and treasurer of the local Japanese school. It's interesting to see the expressions of the men - some smile, as if it were any other picture. Some seem tired. My grandfather has a look that I know well, yet find it difficult to place into words. Stoic, grim, calm. Endure what is to come, for this, too, shall pass.

To these two pictures, I now add this one of Robert Kennedy. I need to figure out what keeps these pictures on my wall, and be loyal to that.