on the train
I heard a voice suddenly.
A sort of mumbling, deep voice. It was when I was a little boy and I was going out with my father. We were on a train. I was holding my father's hand. I looked up. It was my father, practising his lines for the parts in the movies or TV dramas he played. I was embarrassed. People were giving a strange look to this man talking to himself. In fact, this happened all the time. He was always practising his line, and it did not matter where he was. In fact, in my life in my childhood, it was just a default that I heard my father practising his lines at home, often loudly. Just, he was doing it outside, too...
I only felt it was embarrassing.
Now, it is different. Remembering this now, it brings me a nice feeling. He was a serious man. Probably coming from a stage-play group and having a difficult time in his childhood, he was serious about acting and serious about what he does for a living. And until his death, he worked hard no matter if it was for a small part or a big part of TV, movies or commercials.
It gives me a positive feeling that my father was this kind of man.
I remember though, often it happened like this: He practised all day every day for months, got prepared for his part, and went to work. And he came back and my mother asked how it went. Sometimes, he appeared he was disappointed. It was that the others involved were not serious as he was. Often they only cared about fame, success, and money. All they did were aimed at these goals, not the quality of acting per se, while what he wanted was to do a good act.
I know now how much it hurts.
(from my FaceBook post)