The Day I Bought a Copper Skillet In Memory of my Father
Today, after I finished my morning recitations I went to a neighborhood second-hand thrift store. Occasionally you can find old Tibetan items there, thangkas, offering materials, and so forth, for inexpensive prices. A year ago I bought an old brocade thangka of the Three Long Life Deities there, which would normally cost seven or eight hundred dollars, for only twelve dollars! Ever since then, like the old saying goes, once finding a turquoise on the road, the fool will return there a hundred times, whenever I have free time I go to that store; I’ve been there quite a few times!
Today, most of the stuff they had was dishes, food containers, pots, earrings, rings, and necklaces. In one corner I saw a good quality copper skillet with a nice brownish red color resting on a cooking tripod where you could light a flame under it. When I picked it up, with wide eyes, craning my neck, I examined it from every angle for a long time. After considering the shape, appearance, and size of this modern copper skillet, I wanted to buy it. When I saw that, with its base they were only asking twelve dollars I couldn’t help but buy it. Not only was it the kind of old thing that my late father loved, he also liked wooden bowls with silver bands, as well as copper and brass pans. As mementos of my father I had many different wooden bowls of different sizes at the Dharma center but I had not yet been able to find a copper pot, so I took this copper skillet and gave twelve dollars to the elderly bespectacled person who was minding the store. He said, ‘You found a good buy,’ and gave me the thumbs-up. I took it under my arm and carried it home. Although it had been about twenty-four years since my father died I miss him more every month and year that passes. In my father’s day there were no cell phones and it was very rare to even see an ordinary camera in the village or monastery. That’s why, to remind me of my father, regardless of whether I like them or not, I buy and keep the kinds of things that he liked.
As an unforgetting memento
of my kind, holy father,
today, from the store,
I bought a copper skillet for you.
When I see elderly Tibetans
with their dignified aged faces,
carrying their malas in their hands
I miss my kind father.
When I eat some delicious food,
I wish you were there.
When I see a guest’s clothing,
I wish you were wearing it.
It’s not the custom in foreign countries
to not be self-reliant.
It’s not the Tibetan custom
to have no respect for parents.
These days some young people
do not return their parents’ kindness,
and talk back to them instead.
It deeply saddens me.
That’s my blog for this auspicious holiday of Father’s Day.
May you live long!
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