A Pitcher

Wouldn’t mind betting the new Uncle here collecting the dishes at Kwan Inn was the prodigal son of the owner, the locally famous lady who took the casino to court over a disputed win and distributed the award to her employees. Good, proper Buddhist ahma, dealing in vegetarian fare, catching rainwater for the dish-washing, considerate and generous to her staff. Fair chance the monks frequenting her tables got their meals for free. The entire block was occupied by Buddhist outlets of one sort or another—books, fragrance, candles, calendars, lanterns &etc. The silver spoon was another kettle of fish altogether, running up against it in the usual way and coming a cropper, you would guess. Very much got that look about him. Tall, thin scarecrow pulling deeply on the fags on his short breaks on the grass. Chap was one apart, entirely different class compared to the others clearing those tables and dicing the vegetables. There were no tattoos visible, neat dyed cut and tidy manner—nothing street level and pigeon-hole about this one. The wide smiles were something in excess of ease and gratitude over the simple, everyday offerings gifted us. Purest silk the batik shirt the other day might have been; NY motif linen today and smart trainers didn’t come from collecting dishes. Not long ago the man had been wrestling fire-breathing dragons, if this Scribe knows anything from years on the sidelines watching the skittles fall all round. Get a load of that silver on his hand for another thing too; and the watch-face between the jade beads. Laid down the law the old lady; lad holding firm to date, quick on his feet working with a will and no complaints. Just returned from a retreat in the hills of Taiwan, or even the Mainland possibly. Few biz types got to the tables on Sims Avenue, the vibe was all in the other direction. Quiet, contained people who meditated and prayed, hardly a brand among any of them in these three years of patronage. Buttoned in front the NY apparel turned out, in the baseball style cut that was likely limited edition. Tempted to ask the lad himself, who was well into his fifties; perhaps one of the Viet kitchen hands might be more politik.